Mr and Mrs Bass
by Catheryne
Summary: She promised him she would stand by him through anything. Now that he needs to change his reputation for the board, he’s coming to collect. Chuck and Blair get married to establish Chuck's place at the helm of Bass Industries.
1. Chapter 1

Mr and Mrs Bass

Pairing: Chuck/Blair

Summary: She promised him she would stand by him through anything. Now that he needs to change his reputation for the board, he's coming to collect.

**Part 1**

Her eyes narrowed.

Chuck Bass stood in front of her with another bouquet of flowers in his hand and a manila envelope in the other.

"Are you serious?"

He did not speak. He held out the flowers to her. Finally, Blair took the flowers and belied her sharp tongue by gently laying them on the table. And then Chuck offered the envelope with both hands.

After two full weeks of not speaking to each other, he showed up at her house with the most clichéd gesture of all—and one that never worked on them anyway. Still, the flowers were nice. She always wanted to find out what flowers from Chuck smelled like. They all seemed to end up in the trash before she could even bury her nose in them.

Blair stared art the envelope suspiciously. She was reluctant to reach for it because really, she had enough to worry about in her own life right then and didn't need to be dragged down into another Chuck Bass drama. Sometimes a girl needed to worry about herself.

"What is it?" she asked with an edge to her voice.

Chuck pushed the envelope forward, so she took it. He let out a breath of relief. "I need your help."

Blair's eyebrows furrowed. She tore the side of the envelope.

Chuck managed, "It wasn't sealed."

She glanced up in surprise, then flipped the flap. "So it isn't." She was embarrassed, but did not show it. Blair looked up at him and saw the fond smile on his lips. She turned her attention back to the envelope and drew out the papers. "You've gotta be kidding me," she said in a breathless whisper.

Chuck licked his lips. "I'm turning eighteen next week. Bass Industries will be mine. And I'm going to have to show good faith to the board so that they'll learn to trust me."

Blair waved the paper in front of his face. "And you think another lie is going to answer your problem?" Blair read off the paper, then turned back to Chuck. "How did you get Lily van der Woodsen to send a waiver."

"Lily's putty in my hands." Chuck made a face at her, then snatched back the precious document. "And it's not a waiver. It's not a roller coaster." Chuck smoothed the paper on his thigh. "It's a permission from my legal guardian for me to get married." He smirked. "Because I'm underage. Don't worry. You don't need one."

Blair shook her head. "You're insane!"

Chuck smirked. "Do you realize if you and I got together after you turned eighteen, it would've been statutory rape?"

Blair stood up and pushed at Chuck's shoulders. "You're disgusting. Shut up." And then she picked up the flowers to take along with her. "I'm done with you and your… ugh… all your drama." And then she whirled around. "And in New York, seventeen is not below age of consent!" she defended herself.

Chuck caught her hand and pulled her to him. Blair gasped and fell against him. "Come on, Blair, help me out," he pleaded. "I need you."

Blair hated him. Absolutely hated that he could plead like that and just shatter her resolve. She did promise him she would be there for him.

"If there's any time I ever really needed you, Blair, it's now," he told her.

And she just absolutely melted. Blair pursed her lips.

"You can go to Yale, do whatever you like. You'll have the biggest allowance of any coed in the planet. Imagine what your wardrobe could look like while you strut around New Haven," he offered.

She smiled. Of course she would look stunning. She had fabulous taste. It was the most pleasant thing anyone ever told her that day, more pleasant than the news that her admission was no longer on hold and she could enroll as soon as possible.

But he had just, finally, admitted he needed her. And she had not been lying when he told her, right before she threw her flowers at his feet and watched the elevator doors swallow him whole, that all she ever wanted was to be there.

But this was Yale.

Her future.

Or her _future_.

"Fine," she decided. Blair studied his uncharacteristically messy hair and rumpled coat. For the first time, Chuck Bass looked unkempt, almost nervous. At least when he nervously waited for her in the Hamptons he had looked spectacularly put together. This time, he was just unacceptable. "Take a shower and put on some nice clothes." His rumpled coat alone looked like it was worth four grand, but he knew what she meant.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

And she was reminded of the time at the back of his limo, when she was about to jump headlong into this thing with him, and he needed to know the same thing. To ease his mind, not that she owed it to him, but he looked like he needed it, she lied too. "I didn't get into Yale."

Then he did the most unexpected thing. It had never been something she had pegged Chuck Bass could do. Because then she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and he was pulled her to him, flush and tight, and he kissed her forehead. "Their loss," he said.

Her arms were limp on either side of her body, but her hand tightened around the flowers. Blair closed her eyes and relished the sensation of his lips on her skin. She felt her eyes heat up and her throat close. She didn't know why she could be so teary. Seriously, she did not get rejected by Yale. There was no cause to be so emotional.

"Yeah," she said, finding some strength to inject in her voice. Blair shrugged and pulled reluctantly out of his embrace. "You're giving me the perfect excuse to stay, and I still get to save my face." She noticed him studying her with almost tender eyes. For some reason, she found the look offensive. "I'm not doing it as a favor to you, Bass. Don't flatter yourself."

And her words seemed to cut at him.

Good.

"Fine!" Chuck spat. "I try to be nice and—"

"I'm not a child," she snapped. "I'm doing this for me, okay? Not for some warped sense of loyalty to you. Because I'm not loyal to you."

Chuck growled. "You better be, or else the board will get suspicious. Then I lose their trust."

"You should be used to that by now!" Blair argued.

The two of them released their breaths sharply at the same time. Blair watched as Chuck visibly told himself to be calm. "So nobody's doing anybody any favors," he summarized. "We're doing this for ourselves. I get the board to believe I'm a steady young man; you save face for not making it to Yale."

"Right," Blair forced.

"Sounds good. Shall we shake on it?"

"By all means," she responded with a sweet smile. Blair extended her hand.

Chuck took her hand in his and shook it. And then he raised it to his lips. "It's a deal, Mrs Bass."

Blair stifled a smile. "Not yet. I need something from you."

Chuck frowned. "You still get the allowance."

Blair shook her head. She could care less about the allowance, but did not refuse because who knew how Eleanor Waldorf would react when she found out Blair's first legal transaction as an eighteen year old woman? She just might need Chuck's money. Still, she could not live and let live. "You have to be very discreet about your indiscretions, and I'll do the same." Knowing Chuck, the last dependent clause she used would get her exactly what she wanted.

"The hell you will," he murmured softly. "No other guys, Blair. I'm not going to be the husband that gets cheated on and whispered about." His voice grew hard. "I'm not my dad."

Blair bit her lip, because even if she intended the reaction, she did not mean for Chuck to remember his father in that regard. "So what do you propose?"

"No girls for me. No guys for you," he said.

Blair cocked her head to the side. "I can manage that. I don't know if you can."

"You don't know what I can do once I put my mind to it."

She nodded, satisfied. Blair gestured towards the elevator. "Now go change into something respectable. I never imagined this would be what my wedding day will be like. So please don't turn up looking like a homeless drunkard." She caught the sad, apologetic look he threw her way, and chose to ignore it. "I think I'll wear a nice red dress."

Chuck slammed his hand on the closing elevator doors. "You don't have a white one?"

Blair shuddered as she thought of the eyelet dresses her mom made for her. She looked twelve in them. "Nothing that suits the occasion."

Chuck jerked his head. "Grab your bag. We're going to shop for one."

Blair beamed. She raced and took her bag from the chaise and popped into the elevator with Chuck. Chuck grinned at her. She rolled her eyes. "The adrenaline is at the prospect of shopping," she told him.

Chuck nodded, almost patronizingly. "And not at all for the fact that you're going to be my wife."

He was arrogant. But it made her smile. At least he wasn't flinging himself from the rooftop. And he didn't make the word sound ugly at all. "Your ego knows no bounds," she pointed out. Blair leaned back against the elevator wall. Her eyes fell to her clasped hands. She frowned at the sight of her ruby ring. If anyone found out about what they were planning to do, and someone snapped a picture of her hand—She opened her mouth, and looked up at Chuck to warn him.

He was on his knee, holding up a ring between his thumb and forefinger. "Let's make this part at least real," he said. "Something I found in my dad's box."

She couldn't breathe. It was the sight of him there, on his knees with his unkempt hair and that coat that had not been pressed. And he had that little curve on his lips, that expectant look in his eyes as he held up the diamond to her.

"Be the wife," he told her.

She moistened her lips, and she swallowed. Blair's eyes flew to the elevator LCD that told her they were almost at the ground floor. She reached out her hand towards the ring, then hesitated.

"Be my wife," he said.

The elevator doors opened, and Blair clapped her hand over her mouth. Chuck squinted at the people standing outside and spotted Eleanor looking at them in horror, Cyrus chortling, and Harold and Roman clutching the other's arm. She supposed Chuck thought her reaction was for show.

So Blair just enjoyed the moment and let her tears spill. "Of course," she gasped, throwing her arms around him as he stood up. Chuck held her gaze while he slid the ring onto her finger. She sidled close, and said into his arm. "Be nice to my parents," she said. "Make it look real."

And when he did, she found herself bent over backwards, drowning with his lips on hers, grasping at his shoulders so she wouldn't fall.

Something told her she would love being fake married to him.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Yes, I agree. It is unlike my other fics. Let me tell you—this is my effort in making something lighter than the usual, something where I don't need to go down deep and be melancholic just so I can write. I hope you enjoy it. For the couple of people who were kind of disappointed by how I am writing this and thinking it's a bit inferior in development, well, wait for another fic to come out. Lol. Let me have this… It's relaxing. And to everyone who's enjoying it, YAY. Thanks.

Btw, someone asked where the title of Carnal Apple, Woman Incarnate came from. But dear, you did not sign your review so I could not answer. It's from Pablo Neruda's Hundred Love Sonnets.

**Part 2 **

Cyrus, bless that little man, practically crowed. Blair flushed deep red. She could tell it based on the heat on her cheeks. She found herself practically gasping for breath when Chuck finally let her stand on her own two feet. And by that time her knees were melting and all she could do was clutch at his arm to keep herself from falling.

She absolutely hated Chuck Bass for making her knees useless.

And so it was just fair that Chuck almost got knocked back inside the elevator when Cyrus launched himself at Chuck for a large hug that would not be enough for another thirty seconds. Blair watched with a smirk as Chuck gently patted the short older man on the shoulder. Her mother eyed Chuck from head to toe.

Without the support of Chuck's body, Blair reached for her father in the pretense of wanting to hug him out of her own excitement. Since it was going to be a marriage for show, she told herself the reason her knees still wouldn't hold her up was the fact that she needed more milk.

Bone calcium deficiency and women and all that.

"Blair, weren't you just saying a couple of weeks ago that Charles was dead to you?" Harold reminded her.

Roman tsked, then told his partner, "Hush, Harold. It was obviously said in the heat of passion. Can't ever trust zealous protests. They tend to be the opposite of what a girl wants to say."

"Of course," Blair agreed. "You know how over the top I get, daddy." She gave her father a big smile.

"You two just seem so young," Harold offered.

Eleanor shook her head. "They are too young," she said. Then, looking at Chuck, she added, "And immature."

"Nonsense," Cyrus chortled. "I was just their age when I met my first wife."

"And you, darling," Eleanor said gently, "cheated on her." And then she pressed a kiss on Cyrus' lips. "No offense."

Chuck reached a hand out to Blair, who eyed it with suspicion at first. She raised her eyes to Chuck, and Chuck's eyes widened. So she grabbed the hand and stepped towards him. "I assure you, Mrs Rose. We intend to stay faithful to each other."

"Of course, mom." Blair nodded. "Daddy can make sure they're all in writing when he drafts the prenup. If he cheats on me, I get one billion dollars," she said decisively. "Even if we'd just been married a week."

Chuck arched an eyebrow at her. "A week. That's how long you think I'll last?" Blair shrugged. "I'm hurt."

Harold interjected, "I don't think it's such a good idea to have me do it, Blair. I'm sure Charles' company has more than enough in their legal team to draw papers in Charles' best interest."

Chuck replied, "By all means, Mr Waldorf, go ahead and write the prenup."

"Really, Harold," Eleanor insisted, "do what the boy wants."

Blair rolled her eyes then looked at her new fiancé from the corner of her eye. The prenup offer had been a test. No one ever cheated Chuck Bass out of anything. And if anything would jar him awake and make him realize what they were doing, it was the prospect of a legal document. But he stood firm, and his hand around hers did not even budge.

Cyrus clapped his hands loudly. "Let's celebrate! We should all have dinner as a family."

At this, Chuck reacted. Finally. Blair wondered where he went. "Blair and I actually had plans together."

Of course he wouldn't want to spend hours sitting with her parents.

"How about dinner?" Chuck continued. Blair was flabbergasted. She turned to Chuck with wide open eyes, and he grinned at her. "I'm sure Blair would love it if we all got to know each other better. I can take you all my honeymoon plans."

Blair coughed. He said it. He actually said it. In front of her mom. Within earshot of her dad and his gay lover. To the small man who was so general patronage he could be in a fairy tale. "Chuck!" she complained out loud. This time, she wasn't even pretending.

"Oh come on, Blair," he teased, making her uncomfortable by the sincere sparkle in his eye. "It's not as if they can't tell that that's part of the plans."

Eleanor cleared her throat, stifling a grin. "Well the boy has a point. We did jet off right after our wedding, didn't we, darling?" Eleanor said to her husband.

Blair groaned. She turned to her father and his lover, who both had the same misty look in their eyes. She made a look of disgust.

"Dinner then," she bit out.

"I'll reserve a table for six," Cyrus offered.

"Seven," Chuck corrected. "We can't forget Dorota."

Blair's lips curved. "That's right. We can't forget Dorota."

Chuck excused himself and walked a few feet away to make a call to his driver. She kissed her two sets of parents goodbye on the cheeks, then hurried towards where Chuck waited for her across the lobby. He held out his hand to her. Blair frowned, then glanced at the elevator which had already closed after her parents. There was no one else left to fool.

Why was he holding out his hand? Chuck thanked the person on the line, and she assumed the car was already outside. But it was so rare that he made the gesture. After all, Chuck never could see their holding hands. Biting her tongue against the tentative reminder that no one would see, Blair jogged towards him and placed her hand in his.

She said, "We're going to steal her from mom."

"Dorota?" he asked, slipping his phone into his coat pocket.

"Who else?" she responded playfully. "Make her an offer she can't refuse. Double her salary."

Chuck leaned back in the seat. "Is this how it's going to be from now on? You get to make the decision and you tell me to fork up the cash?"

Blair sat up in the seat and looked down at him with a haughty stare. "Let me remind you. You need me," she pointed out.

His eyes softened. An arrogant protest and a reminder that she needed him too, she could handle better. Instead, he said, "That I do."

Shakily, she asked, "So what do you say?"

"I say," Chuck replied slowly, in that drawl he used when he was trying to make a point, "Yes, Mrs Bass."

Blair tried to stop herself, but it escaped. She laughed at the words coming from his mouth. "What?" she gasped laughingly.

"Yes, Mrs Bass," he responded.

Blair shook her head, chuckling. "You must really, really need me."

Chuck nodded. "I really, really do."

The laughter slowly melted away from her body. She tried to catch her breath and finally, she found herself holding his gaze. He sat up in his seat and leaned towards her. She felt her lips tingle with heat as he focused on them. Her lips parted.

The limo stopped. He glanced outside and released a breath. "We're finally here."

Blair blinked. Her movement was slow when she turned her head and looked out the window. "Oh," she whispered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You do know my mom will freak out if she finds out I got a ready to made dress, off the rack."

His voice was a little bit raspy still when he replied, "The dresses here are from designers far more prominent than Eleanor Waldorf. I know you'd love to have something tailor-made, but we need to do this now. The board will meet in a week, and I don't want my replacement to be on the agenda."

"She will kill you," Blair said.

"Then we don't tell her. Let her make you a wedding gown. Let your dad draw prenup papers. We'll just get married again. They'll be happy. They don't need to know those are all for show."

Slowly, she nodded. She watched in fascination as he brought her knuckles to his mouth. Her diamond ring caught the sparkle from the bright sun outside. "We can still pass by your lawyers, you know."

He scoffed. Blair placed a hand on his chest. "Chuck, really," she said sharply, "you have to think like a businessman." She paused. "This entire thing is a business arrangement anyway," she reminded him.

Chuck swallowed, his lips thinning. She wondered if it was her reminder that pissed him off. She was only telling him the truth. He wanted the company, and he would marry her to make sure the board saw that he was fit for it. She was the perfect, most responsible candidate. Her reputation already preceded her. After all, most of the board members had children and grandchildren who went to Constance. Everyone knew Blair Waldorf was responsible, a good leader. It was probably why Chuck chose her.

"You want a prenup," Chuck clarified.

Blair sighed. "You need a prenup," she emphasized. "You have to protect yourself."

"Are you planning on leaving me?"

If he only knew. Blair still had to decline Yale and convince them to put her admission on hold. She reminded herself to put it on the agenda for right after they return from City Hall. He said he needed her, and she was concerned about him enough to stay.

"I'm not planning on anything," she told him. "But you need to take care of your interests. It's what your father would have done."

The limo door opened. Chuck snapped. "Shut the door!" The driver shut the door quickly. Chuck turned to Blair. "How many times do we have to discuss this? I'm not my dad."

"I know. But I'm me. And I might not plan to leave you, but I'm not risking you coming out on the losing end if anything happens." She shook her head. "You know my parents." Blair corrected herself. "You know my mom. She's not after your money or anything, but if you do cheat on me, she's vengeful enough to want to take you for all you're worth."

Blair wondered if she would ever be vengeful enough to do the same. If one day, she fell back in love with Chuck—because she is so over him now, really, truly—and she found him cheating, or getting back into drugs, or he got so drunk one day he actually hit her, would she hit him where it hurt the most?

Really, Blair knew herself and what she was capable of. She might even try to wrestle the company from him, knowing that was the most precious thing in his life, because it proved that his father trusted him enough with his greatest achievement.

"My advice," Blair said softly, "is to get a prenup so nice and tight I wouldn't ever be able to take Bass Industries from you."

Chuck licked his lips at the telling statement. "You think your mom could be that cold?"

Blair placed her hand on the door handle. "People can be cruel when they're hurt." She opened the door and stepped right outside. She felt Chuck follow her, and his arm wrap around her waist.

Blair wanted to pull away, but he tightened his arm around her. "I'm not going to cheat," he said in a low voice, into her ear. "Your mom has nothing to worry about."

"I'll let her know." Blair's hand rested on his arm. "You can take off your hand now."

"But if it will make you feel better, we'll sign a prenup."

She sighed in relief. "It does."

His arm tightened around her waist, propelling her towards a designer boutique. He seemed to know his way around, and Blair suspected she had been in the area before. He confirmed this when he said, "I saw the perfect dress for a secret wedding right here."

Blair stepped into the shop. The moment the saleslady saw Chuck, she grinned. Blair frowned, then glanced at Chuck. She had been leaning away from him, but after seeing the impersonal nod Chuck gave the saleslady, Blair settled in closer to him. The girl excused herself and walked to the back of the store.

"Did you choose a dress for me?" she asked apprehensively. She bit on her lower lip. As much as she loved him—no, liked him—no, tolerated him!—she could not imagine herself in anything that followed his taste in clothes.

Chuck released her, then settled into the white armchair in the center of the shop. "You can say no and we can spend the whole day looking for another one. Just remember that City Hall closes at five." He texted on his phone.

"And the papers?" she pressed.

"The lawyer still has three hours to revise one that a lot of our senior executives use. Then he'll drop them here or at the mayor's office."

"Good," she murmured, satisfied. Blair leaned down and dropped a kiss on his head.

Chuck laughed wryly. "That's it? I follow everything you wanted and that's what I get?"

"What do you want?" she parried.

He grasped her hips and pulled her close to him. Her knees hit the edge of his cushioned seat, and she toppled astride him with her knees on either side of his hips. Chuck raised his lips, and she blushed. "One reward."

"Chuck!"

"They all know we're getting married," he told her about the salesladies in the shop. "Do you want them to think we're not absolutely in love?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. The girl who greeted Chuck came back in, because Blair heard her voice say, "Here it is, Mr Bass. We put it on hold specially for you."

The girl sounded so proud, and Blair felt just that tiny bit of jealousy. It was enough to make her hold Chuck's face in her hands, cup him by his cheeks, and place her mouth smack down on his. His lips parted underneath hers because he was Chuck Bass and it was easy to make him do it. Blair happily put on a show and even teasingly thrust her tongue in his mouth and let it curl around his.

One of his hands left her hip and rose to bury itself in her hair.

She raised her mouth from his, laid her forehead against his. "Is that enough, Mr Bass?" she whispered with a playful laugh.

"Never," he growled.

"You're a good actor," she told him, raising herself to get off of him. His one hand on her hip pushed on the small of her back, and she lost her balance and ended up sprawled over him. Blair felt the stark evidence of his hardness against her belly. She quickly stood up and turned around. To the girl, she said insincerely, "Sorry."

"That's alright, miss." The girl held up the cream Monique Lhuillier dress that was sleek and sparkly enough to look elegant, but simple enough to remain young.

Blair gasped and took the dress in her hands. She turned to Chuck. "You chose this? I must say, Chuck Bass, I'm surprised at the class."

"Well thank you," he said. "I was dressing you in my head."

"That's a first." She grinned, because the words came out inadvertently flirty and they were nowhere near that mood. Or at least they shouldn't be. She was helping him cope and get the trust of the board back. Once that was done, and she was sure he would be fine, it had to end. He would have his life back on track. At least then she could go to Yale without worrying about him.

His lawyer really needed to work hard on that prenup.

"I'm going to fit this," she told him.

"It's going to fit you," he assured her casually.

Blair's brows furrowed. "You can't tell without trying it on."

"Suit yourself," he said. He cleared his throat. "I mean," he grinned, "yes, Mrs Bass."

Oh man, she was going to miss that when he's back to his old self again and didn't need her anymore. "I'll be right out. Check on your lawyer, because it doesn't seem like we're going to be looking for long."

Inside the dressing room, Blair looked at herself in the mirror. She took the dress off the hanger and held it up in front of her. Her heart thundered when she saw how low it was at the front, how much of the back would slow, how snugly it would fit. She opened the door and left with it hanging over her arm.

"You're not that fast," Chuck said from his seat. "You didn't try it on."

She kept her expression neutral. "It's not going to fit."

He frowned, then walked over to her. "It might be more than a year since, Blair," he said in his quiet voice, "but I remember every bit of your body like it was just yesterday. This will be perfect on you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a kiss. And then, for the first time in her life, she felt a smack on her ass. She choked a cry of protest. "Basshole!"

"Try it on, Mrs Bass."

She glared at him, then slammed back into the dressing room. Muttering every insult she could think of, Blair shed her clothes, then slipped the delicate creation over her head. She turned around to face the mirror. The sparkly pattern on the front curved and captured the light, accentuating the gentle curves that showed off her waistline. What she had thought was an indecent dip at the front only showed a shadow of her cleavage. The cream confection was a perfect replacement for a wedding gown, Chuck had, like always, known what would make her glow.

Nervously, she pushed the door open. Blair peered outside. Chuck nodded at her. She stepped out into the light.

He gave her a big smile, and she knew half of that smile was his pride in being right. Again.

"Didn't I tell you, Mrs Bass?" He turned to the salesladies, who seemed more in awe of him than the dress. "Doesn't my bride look perfect?"

"Yes, sir," the ladies said, but they were blinking so fast at Chuck Blair doubted they even spared her a glance.

Blair smiled sweetly at the girl who had started it. "Will you put all my clothes in a bag? I'll wear this out so we can go and get married. Right now," she stressed. Blair waited for the girl to step away, but there were three more pretty girls who looked like they wanted Chuck for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She turned around and looked up at her fiancé. With her wavering confidence, she tried—twirled for him, adored that his nostrils flared, and his eyes grew a little cloudy.

"It is perfect. Don't you think so?"

He nodded.

She gave a self-satisfied smirk. Blair repeated, "Perfect!"

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

He couldn't tell her he loved her.

Hell, he couldn't even admit to Lily that he rather enjoyed waking up and hearing noises coming from the dining room. He acted pissed off about Serena and Eric's incessant talking, but Chuck really did find some pleasure in the auditory comfort of other people's presence in his life.

Whenever he thought that it was time to say something, his throat just constricted and he ended up saying nothing.

When Chuck was about to tell Blair he loved her, right on that rooftop while he clutched at her wrap. But his throat just constricted again and his tongue swelled. So much he couldn't choke out anything more than 'I'm sorry.'

Blair strode quickly into City Hall right in front of him, unwilling to be seen for too long between stepping out of the limo and into the government building.

"Wait up, Mrs Bass," he called out. She had a coat over her lovely Monique Lhuillier, but despite the cover it was so obvious there was something gorgeous underneath. The bottom quarter showed and it sparkled under the sun.

She turned to him with wide, flashing eyes. "Ssssshhhhh! Do you want people to hear you?" Blair eyed his dapper suit.

"The point is people should know we're married."

"I'd rather my parents find out from us than from people who spied us in City Hall." Blair made a face then stuck her hand out for him to take it. "And hurry up."

"So eager."

She narrowed her eyes at him and jerked her head towards the door. Chuck smirked. He adored it when she could not hide the fact that he was trying her patience. Finally, they were inside the building. Blair made him stop, then fixed his coat. She held her hand out to him and Chuck took a bowtie from his pocket then placed it on her palm.

Blair placed it deftly on him and made sure it was level. "You have to look presentable," she told him.

There was something about the way she fixed him up that told him this was going to happen several times in their marriage. And he welcomed the prospect. He caught her wrist in his hand and turned it so he could kiss her pulse. "Thank you." He hoped she knew it was for more than fixing his tie.

She nodded. "We have to make sure there are some pictures. It might be unromantic, getting married like this. But the point is to show the board how respectable you are now." Her lips curved. "And maybe we can put it on a wedding album."

"A wedding album," he repeated. Maybe she wasn't as businesslike about it as she pretended.

"It is my wedding day, you know. My very first. There's only one first in a lifetime."

Whether or not something inside him rebelled at the word 'first,' he could not call her out on it. There was no way he could stress enough that this should be the 'only.' To Blair, 'first' was always going to be him. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at the knowledge. This was something she would remember forever, like the back of the limo. And he was giving her a rushed wedding in City Hall with none of her parents to witness it, with no long walk down the aisle, with no motifs or themes or a long train that little girls could hold up. She always wanted to be one notch higher than tradition, and he was giving her a pitiful excuse.

"Are you sure you want this?" he repeated, and almost kicked himself for giving her that opening. There was no question about it. The board was going to vote against him on his eighteenth birthday when the Bass chairmanship reverted from Lily to him. Chuck needed Blair to make sure he gained some amount of stability in the eyes of the board.

The corner of her lip turned up. "Will you retain your father's company if we don't do it?"

"I can wait," he offered. "I can give you a better wedding day."

"You mean," she said softly, "you can make sure I have the wedding I've been dreaming of since I was little girl?" He nodded, because he would make it happen. She deserved to have memories that beautiful. "No, thank you. I don't want to fool myself."

Her fingertips brushed against his throat as she straightened the crease on his collar. "Thanks," he said, half-thinking.

"Someday you'll be grown up enough to check on your collar on your own. And you might not even need me to fix your bowtie." When she said it, she sounded just a little sad.

On his father's wedding day, she had reached up to fix the floral bow, and now, on his own wedding day, she still made sure it was not askew. Chuck helped her take the coat off and looked at his bride all dressed in his chosen gown. "You look lovely."

"Mr Bass! Mr Bass!"

Blair looked over his shoulder, and Chuck turned to see the man scurrying towards them. "Ethan." The man presented the papers to Chuck. Chuck took them and skimmed through the paragraphs. "Does this have everything we talked about?"

"Yes, Mr Bass."

Chuck nodded, then handed one of the folders to Blair. He gave her his pen, then extended a hand to the lawyer. Ethan placed his pen in Chuck's hand. Chuck swiftly signed his name.

"Is this in your best interest?" Blair asked as she studied the first few paragraphs. She turned to the lawyer. "Does this protect his company even if he starts sleeping around?"

"You will not be able to take Bass Industries, even if I go on a rampage, whore around and shoot up so much coke."

Her eyebrows rose. "That I have to see." Blair read the wording of the paragraph, then nodded.

"If Mr Bass cheats on you, you will have the option to leave the marriage with a sizeable allowance."

"Alimony. But the company will be untouchable," Chuck explained.

"That's what I wanted." Blair turned to the last page and signed her name on the document.

The lawyer collected the folders. Chuck hung Blair's coat on the man's shoulder. "Best wishes, Mr Bass," Ethan offered. Then he nodded to Blair, "Mrs Bass."

It had been quick and painless. Chuck would have heaved a sigh of relief if he had not been watching Blair's face the whole time. She had a smile pasted on her face, and when they were pronounced man and wife, he noticed her face fall. But she had looked up at him, and the smile was back almost as if it never disappeared.

"You were expecting something more," he stated.

She denied it. "That would have been stupid."

He had been to his father's wedding, and he knew how women thought. Even Lily, whose fourth wedding it had been, had been so busy preparing for the wedding for the weeks before the event. Weddings were perfect, like they were straight out of a fairytale. He had just given Blair a hasty shopping trip and a half an hour visit to the City Hall.

She turned to him, all of a sudden the air was thick, their movement too awkward.

"What now?"she prompted.

"Well," the clerk said, "you can kiss, sign here, and you're married."

For all his pleasure in kissing Blair, Chuck found this particular kiss to be the equivalent of a dental procedure. His hands closed over her shoulders. He leaned down and captured her lips with his. Surprisingly enough, they kept their mouths closed the entire five seconds that they kissed. Chuck signed the court documents and waited for Blair to sign as well.

She cleared her throat. "Well, that's done. Now dinner." She walked ahead of him, and Chuck watched the way his new wife's ass curved under the shimmery cloth. He had made the perfect choice in clothes, he thought, seeing how the garment fitted around Blair's hips.

Chuck reluctantly checked his watch. "We still have time if you want to see the apartment."

She frowned, then turned to him. "What apartment?"

"The one we're moving to, Mrs Bass," he pointed out.

Blair paused in her stride. "Wait—what?!"

"We're married now. We have to move in together, and I don't want to live with your mother. I'm sure you don't want to leave with both the van der Woodsens."

Blair paled. Chuck wondered how it was that the intelligent Blair Waldorf never thought far enough forward to know that when she agreed to marry him, she was also agreeing to leaving her parents' home. "I have no problem living with the van der Woodsens. I'll move in there."

"The Humphreys practically live there too."

Blair made a face. He noted the stark terror in her face. "Okay. I'll move in to your apartment."

"Our apartment," he corrected her. "You'll love it." It had taken days to furnish it specially to make her feel at home. He had been completely satisfied with the wet bar and the bed, but the interior designer had the most difficult time giving him the furnishings that fit his idea of what Blair would like. "And if you don't," he amended, 'you're perfectly free to change things around."

Blair blinked at him. "Oh my God!" she realized. "We're married."

"That was the point, Blair," he said slowly, not wanting to spook her. "Blair?"

"When you said no other girls for you and no other guys for me," she whispered, "you didn't mean we would abstain forever, did you?" Slowly, he shook his head.

He cleared his throat, because all along he thought she was on the same page. "We're married."

"For show!" she protested.

Chuck sighed, then massaged the bridge of his nose. She was going to kill him. "You think we'll live together, not see other people, but not have sex?"

Blair's eyes were wide. "Chuck Bass—"

Before she could protest more, and probably trample all over his hopes when she did, he nodded. "Alright."

"Alright," she parroted. And then she tested, "So you just signed your way to a life of abstinence."

He smiled thinly. "It looks like it."

They made their way back to the steps of the City Hall. Blair spotted the limo slowly cruising around then making its way to the front to pick them up. When she saw the people below them, Blair realized she was wearing her Lhuillier out in the open. "Where's my coat?" she asked Chuck.

"Gave it to Ethan," he informed her.

There was indecision in her eyes. She wanted to hide the dress, or run to the limo so that people would not watch their descent. But she was so lovely in her dress it would have been such a waste. This was the best way to chronicle the spur of the moment wedding. In a few years time, maybe in a decade, she would forgive him. Blair should find the romantic part of the rushed wedding by then.

"Hey."

She looked up at him as she waited on the top step. Chuck pulled her to him and placed a kiss on her lips. It was a more natural kiss, and her lips parted in response. Her hands rose to hold him by his neck. Her shoulders rose in feeling and he heard the tiny mewling sound from the back of her throat. He felt himself stirring inside the confines of his pants. Chuck raised his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I should stop," he managed.

She felt it too, he was sure. She felt his hard on in the dress shop and now she was feeling it while they stood out in the open cold. They made their way down the steps and towards the limo. People snapped pictures on their phones. Chuck hoped every last one of them got posted to Gossip Girl. And he hoped someone had the entire thing in high quality. Maybe then he could put someone on the job collecting everything that would be uploaded online and he could hire someone to make another version of a wedding album.

The paparazzi inspired photo journal would be the perfect anniversary girl for Mrs Bass.

"It's okay, Chuck. We'll keep you busy. I'll talk to the headmistress and get her to lift your suspension," he heard her say when they settled in the back of the limo.

"Lily couldn't do it. What makes you think you can?"

She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. "I have ways," she assured him. "The headmistress just wants to make sure you'll have enough guidance to take it seriously this time. And I can promise her I'll be on you every second of every day."

"Sounds raunchy, Mrs Bass." He looked at her, even while she rested her eyes. The smooth column of her throat displayed to him was as enticing now as the first time they made love, right at the back of this very limo. He ached to place his lips on that skin, feel her throat work under his lips. But they were not having sex. And kissing her then would just make it more painful.

Hell, people were not kidding when they you stop having sex when you're married.

She turned to her side and opened her eyes, and it was harder now that every move she made reminded him of the night she lost her virginity to him. He reached out tentatively to run his hand on her bare arm. Her skin was cold. He could not believe he was stupid enough to leave her coat with Ethan.

She smiled. "You married me to improve your reputation for the board," she told him. "But it's more than the act of marrying me, Chuck. We'll make improvements to your life. By the time we're done no one will ever question if you're fit for the job."

"When we're done?" he whispered. "How would you know we're done?" And what the hell did it mean they were done. He didn't think there was a provision on the cold, legal vows that there was an endpoint to it.

"When you're the only person they think of when they say 'Bass Industries,'" she clarified. Blair leaned forward, and he opened his arms to let her burrow in. "I'll make sure the headmistress knows I'm guiding you. You need to finish high school. It's a prerequisite."

"To what?"

"To your getting a business degree."

"Blair," he protested, "I'm not interested. I don't even know the first thing about that."

She nodded. "I'll take care of it. And then we can go shopping for some neckties. We'll get plain ones you can wear to your board meetings."

He looked down at the dark head of hair that now rested against his chest. His throat closed up at the words. She was on a mission to improve him. The very knowledge was like a punch to his gut. She married him, but he was not yet good enough, not perfect enough. Just like last year, she was going to hone and shape him into a gentleman, a college man, someone who wore his bowties straight, a guy who wore plain neckties to work.

"Way to ruin the moment," he told her. Blair extricated herself from his arms. "I told you you can fix the apartment up," he said softly. Blair straightened in her seat. "I'm not your project."

"Chuck, I'm only doing what you need me to do."

His jaw ticked. He turned to watch the buildings from the window. His phone beeped and so did hers. She did not bother to reach for hers. Instead, she turned to the other side of the limo and looked out the window too. Finally, Chuck reached for his phone and looked at the Gossip Girl blast.

Did he ever doubt that it would be like a fairy tale? Anything Blair Waldorf was part of, even if it was a rushed wedding in City Hall, turned to magic.

That Gossip Girl was fast.

_And they all lived happily ever after. Or so one would think after seeing pictures that came straight out of the last page of a Cinderella storybook. The girl, all in her sparkling white, and the guy in a dapper suit, running hand in hand down the steps of City Hall towards the waiting carriage. Looks like the Queen B has a very juicy secret. Well, B, we've got all the evidence. Spill._

Chuck scrolled down his phone and saw the various photos captured of them as they stood kissing on the steps. She had been holding him, looking into his eyes. There were pictures where her eyes were closed as he kissed her. And there a lovely photo series of the two of them running to the limo.

His first urge was to slide towards her side. Chuck placed a kiss on her shoulder.

"I'm an ass," he started.

"Yes you are," was her cold response. At least she wasn't crying.

"I know what you're trying to do, and I'm sorry."

Blair nodded, but did not turn around. Chuck reached his arm out so she could see his phone even if she didn't turn around. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Wedding pictures," he told her. Blair relaxed in his arms and looked down at the screen of his phone. Her lips curved, and Chuck wondered how to give Gossip Girl a little something extra for making her smile. Her phone rang, and he knew it would be Serena. He just had to thank heaven that Eleanor, Harold, Cyrus and Roman were probably not subscribed to Gossip Girl.

Blair held tightly to his phone, and looked through the pictures misty eyed. "We look nice. I didn't think we'd look this nice given the circumstances."

"We were a magazine cover," he told her swiftly, with an arrogance he knew she expected.

She checked around and spotted her phone on the floor of the limo. Blair picked it up and handed it to Chuck. Chuck grinned then glanced down at the caller id. It was not Serena.

"Hello," he chimed. "Dorota, it's nice to hear from you." He winced at the sound. The woman's voice was for the first time a little shrill to his ear. "Okay. We'll see you then." Chuck hung up the phone.

Blair smiled at him. "Did I ever tell you Dorota's subscribed to Gossip Girl?"

Chuck shook his head. He should have expected it though. Dorota knew far too much about all the crap he had pulled to have all the information just come from Blair. "We have two hours before we need to meet your parents."

Blair sighed. "Some rest!"

"We're passing by the new place. I had Lily bring you a change of clothes."

The limo pulled up in front of the high rise. He slid out and opened the door for her. She placed her hand in his, and Chuck felt a little out of sorts when he again noticed the diamond on her finger. He took a deep breath, then led her to the lobby.

"Mr Bass," the doorman greeted him. "And this is Mrs Bass?"

Chuck turned to Blair, who hid her surprise at hearing the name from someone else. "I'm Mrs Bass," she agreed. "As of twenty minutes ago." Chuck grinned.

"Congratulations!"

Chuck propelled her towards the elevator. He placed his key card into the security slot. "I'll give you your copy. It's in the apartment." While the elevator climbed, he pulled her to his arms and was surprised when she leaned back against him.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Blair's hands on his arms tightened. "I hope you like the surprise."

They stepped out of the elevator cab. There was a long table spread out with a light meal, two candlesticks flickered as the only light source inside the room. Outside the tall windows the night lights of Manhattan were colorful.

"I thought you would like a reception."

Lily stood up from the table and walked over to them. "Did you do it?" Chuck nodded. Lily turned to Blair and wrapped her arms around her. "Well, you've always been such a big part of our lives. Now I can officially welcome you to the family."

Blair turned her eyes to him, and Chuck cleared his throat. He picked up a glass of champagne and brought it to his lips. He watched her thank Lily for the welcome. Eric and Serena joined in.

"Blair, I can't believe he got you to agree!" Serena exclaimed. He had to thank her for not blowing it all with her big mouth.

She was a nice touch. One brunette in an army of blondes. He finally had someone to match with.

Eric wrapped his arms around Blair, who returned the hug with gusto.

Chuck walked over and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"You just couldn't let my family be the first to know, could you?" she said to him.

He smirked at her. "They already got front row seats to the proposal. I thought my side needed to have a milestone of their own."

He led her to her seat and poured a glass of champagne for her. He turned to hand it to her, and saw the same sad expression on her face as she watched him. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

She could tell that Dorota spilled the beans the moment they stepped into the restaurant and she saw her mother's face. Eleanor had not spotted them yet, so her glare was only towards the flute of champagne that had been opened too early. Blair checked her watch, and noted that they were eighteen minutes late to their own engagement party.

She worried her lip, and Chuck noticed quickly because he plucked her lower lip with his thumb, relieving it from the punishing bite of her teeth. He took off the watch from her wrist. "You'll get this when you're not so stressed."

"I have clock settings on my phone," she retorted.

"You don't want me to take your phone," he warned her.

"You don't have the right to take my phone!"

"I'm your husband," he said with such arrogant demeanor that she wanted to use the very newest model to whack him on the side of the head. "Just like I have to agree to your demands, Mrs Bass, you should learn to give in to me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Never."

Chuck shook his head. He pulled at her small bag and unzipped it, then while she sputtered in her offense at having her privacy so abused, he took her phone and slipped it in his pants. "You'll get this when you learn to meet me halfway."

"I guess I'll just a buy a new phone," she said flippantly.

"I guess I'll just convince your parents that I can support you on my own. That wouldn't be hard to do."

Her eyes widened in horror. "You mean to say all my allowance would depend on you?"

He shrugged. "It might make us closer." He took her by the elbow and tugged her beside him so that they could walk together. "I'm not going to starve you. And taking your mind away from time is only for your benefit."

"You are a tyrant, and I hate you!"

"You don't mean that. You love me," he said teasingly. The humor in his eyes vanished. Blair noticed that she had held her breath the moment the words came out of his mouth, and so she was expecting a continuation. There was probably some desperate hope in her eyes that panicked him. "You're not late for your engagement party. If anything, your engagement party was late," he pointed out.

Roman had spotted them as they crossed the dining area of the restaurant, because he nodded towards them and Blair saw his lips move. If there had been any doubt, it would have been squelched by the additional four pairs of eyes turning to them. They drew nearer and Blair's gaze focused on her mother.

"Eleanor, not here. Be happy for the kids," she heard her father say.

She wondered if her father realized that from now on she would be sleeping under the same roof as Chuck Bass. The warmth in her father's voice was still so magnetic in the same way that her mother's displeasure was repellant, so Blair crossed paths with Chuck to embrace her father. Again, Chuck was left to the Rose couple.

"Congratulations, sweetheart!"

"Miss Blair, why you not wait?" Dorota said mournfully. The woman probably dreamed about her charge's wedding all her life, and she had been stripped of the opportunity to help her once little girl through the planning.

She met Dorota's eyes from over her dad's shoulder, and she smiled. "It was spur of the moment, Dorota," Blair defended. "You know Chuck."

"Well," Harold decided, "I hope it was memorable for you."

Dorota waved her phone. "She has enough memories on the internet."

Blair supposed Dorota was still on Gossip Girl's website. "It was very memorable, daddy. Most things are with Chuck." Memorable, unforgettable, or just plain humiliation at its zenith that it got tattoed on your mind.

She turned to see how her new 'husband'—she wondered why there were still air quotes in her head—fared against the Inquisition.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to share the moment with us, Mrs Rose," he said somberly.

"You don't look sorry at all, Charles," her mother stressed. "I'm tempted to believe you intentionally got married today to hurt me."

"That's not true, Mrs Rose. We weren't thinking of you at all." His eyes turned to her, and Blair's breath caught in her throat. Chuck was the finest actor in all of New York, if he could summon a look like that for her parents' benefit. He had a small smile on his face. "I wanted to marry Blair today. And I didn't want to wait."

Eleanor's lips parted. Cyrus shook his head. "Are you pregnant?" Eleanor exclaimed in disbelief.

"What?" Blair screeched. "No!" She made a face of disgust. "Ugh."

"Lovely sentiment, Mrs Bass," Chuck drawled.

Cyrus waved his hands to the fully loaded table. "Sit, sit everyone." Blair felt Chuck's hand on the small of her back as he led them to the two empty seats at the table. His palm radiated warmth into her spine. She found herself following where his hand led her. "I would like the honor of giving the first toast." Cyrus laughed softly. "But I have nothing prepared anymore! I'd prepared to toast to your impending nuptials, and some online magazine tells us you're already married. I should have known young people wouldn't be able to wait." Blair flushed. "Well, cheers to your impatience. That's what makes youth fun."

Chuck smirked and lifted his champagne flute, clinked it with Cyrus'. Reluctantly, Eleanor raised her glass to her husband's toast. Chuck swallowed his drink and eyed Blair's glass. Blair picked up her glass and drank to the toast.

Harold stood up and beamed at her, and Blair felt like a little girl again after showing her father a picture that she had colored perfectly within the lines. Only this time, her painting was so messy, so uncertain, so hastily done he could hardly be proud. But when her dad looked at her, he looked like he was.

And that just brought tears to her eyes. "Here is to my lovely girl, who has never done anything unplanned or unexpected. Until Charles." She looked at Chuck from the corner of her eye, and she could have sworn he blushed. Her father continued, "Don't think Dorota hadn't show me the archives of that magazine. Dancing on stage, Blair?"

"Dorota!" she protested laughingly. Victrola was over a year ago. She did not realize Gossip Girl kept archives that long. She clapped her hands over her cheeks and felt her hot skin. "Daddy—"

Harold waved off what would have been an apology. "I just want to say, Charles—"

Chuck looked at Harold straight in the eye. "Yes sir?"

"Thank you for bringing my daughter out of that box. Her life would have been very dull if she stayed there."

She felt Chuck's hand reached for hers under the table. His hand tightened around hers. Her father—a father—was telling him he did the right thing. Her heart swelled for Chuck.

She was caught off guard when Chuck turned to her and asked, "Did I?"

Blair's lips curved and she sipped her champagne. "You certainly broke the monotony."

"This is to Charles. I never once expected to call you son. But I'm happy to do it now," Harold said in cheers.

Chuck grinned, and she was glad she gave him that at least. He finished off his glass and Roman poured him more. "One last glass, Charles," Roman said.

Blair wanted to tell him that no one cut Chuck Bass off from anything.

Eleanor picked up her drink and rose to her feet. This time, it was Blair's hand that tightened around his. Her heart thundered. Chuck lifted her hand to his lips.

"This one is not for you, Charles," Eleanor began. He held her hand tightly, and Blair was grateful for the silent support. "Blair. You're an adult. You became an adult the moment you turned eighteen. That's why you didn't need me or your father to sign off on this decision." The words were clipped, dispassionate. Blair swallowed. She reached for a glass of water and tipped it into her mouth. "Married at eighteen and to a boy like Charles. Your decision. And your decision to get married in a quick, quiet wedding wearing," Eleanor shuddered, "ready to wear."

Chuck opened his mouth, but she dug her nails into his hand to keep him quiet.

"But I am still your mother, and I want you to know that even if you can make all these decisions on your own, I want you to come to me if there are problems. I may not be the poster child for it, but I believe marriages are forever. And you had better make this last that long. I couldn't do it," her mother said. "But if anyone can do it, it would be my daughter."

Blair blinked at her mother, wordless. "What?" she whispered.

"It's all good," Chuck said into her ear. "Say thank you."

Blair choked out the words, "Thank you, mom."

Eleanor broke into a smile and wrapped Blair up in an embrace. Blair squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her arms around Eleanor. Cyrus hugged. So much. But Eleanor barely did, and Blair enjoyed the experience. It was probably going to be once in forever.

There was that word again.

Forever.

Just like everyone in this room probably thought she was going to be Mrs Bass. No one else knew Chuck like her. No one else understood how quickly a Bass can rise and recover. All she needed to do was survive long enough to help him back to his feet, and she could in good conscience give him back his life the way he loved it—single, carefree, no commitments, no limits.

Food moved around the table and slowly, they filled her plate. Blair pushed at the food until Chuck leaned over and speared the large cut of pork chop au poivre from her plate. She sighed in relief, because there was no way she could finish it without being overwhelmed by the urge to throw up. And then she watched in amazement as Chuck cut it into smaller pieces then placed the food back on her plate.

It was utterly tender, and she hated that he could be tender. It was like he was not as screwed up as she was right then.

"I'm not a kid, Chuck," she snapped.

She felt her father's eyes on her. Blair frowned. She popped one of Chuck's cut strips into her mouth and chewed. She saw him throw an embarrassed look at her dad. "What are you doing?" he hissed at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. Blair opened her mouth. Chuck held up a finger to shush her, sending her temper flaring. "Excuse us," he gritted.

He pulled her along with him until they were in the quiet corridor on the way to the bathroom. At least they were out of earshot.

Chuck gave her an expectant look. "Well?" he prompted.

"You are not a big deal, Chuck. You are so full of yourself."

He looked appalled. "Where is this coming from, Blair? Your ass? Because this just popped out of nowhere."

She stabbed her finger into his chest repeatedly. "I am perfectly capable of using a fork and a knife and preparing my own food."

"That's it?" he cried incredulously.

"You are not the boss. You don't get to keep my phone like you're study hall monitor."

"You want your phone?" he demanded. Chuck fished it from his pocket and slapped it into her palm. "What else?"

"And you," she hissed, "don't get to hold the money, or stop my dad from giving me any."

"We're married. It's bound to happen."

"I will never be in a position where all my money has to come from you," Blair told him.

"Why not?" he asked, as if her demand were the most preposterous thing in the world. "You're my wife, Blair."

She shook her head. "You don't know how it feels to live with the constant fear that it can be gone any moment."

"What are you talking about?" He shook his head. "You're never getting cut off. Money is not an issue for us, Blair."

Money.

That was easy. Such an easy out. Money. He thought she was afraid of losing money once he asked her dad to stop sending her monthly allowance.

God, he thought she was so shallow.

She had to get him completely back to his feet, functional, and to the top of Bass Industries. The sooner, the better. The sooner it was, the less chances she would get used to people calling her Mrs Bass.

"Truce?" he said softly, offering her his hand.

How could there be treaty when the scales were so sharply in favor of one side? Blair placed her hand in his. She did not speak, but he pulled her with him back to the table as if she had agreed.

"Blair?" her father prompted when they returned to the table. "Is everything okay?"

She forced a smile. "Yes, dad. Chuck and I are going to convince headmistress Queller to let Chuck back in tomorrow."

"Defense?"

"Four thousand words and counting," Blair returned.

"Summary?"

"Chuck has too much potential not to finish high school."

"A little weak," Harold critiqued.

Blair nodded, then continued, "And his name is too high profile not to have in St Jude's alumni roster."

"That's my girl," Harold answered.

Blair glanced back at Chuck. She felt the hair on her arms rise when she noticed how he looked at her. "What do you think?" she asked him. "Will Queller surrender?"

"I think you're brilliant, Mrs Bass. No one stands a chance."

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **By now you probably know that this kind of writing is not natural to me. It's like pulling tooth to write like this. Lol. But I am glad you're enjoying the effort.

**Part 5**

It was after dinner that reality washed over her. They were going home. Her eyes flickered at her new husband—and oh God that sounded so weird. He looked out his own window and seemed to be studying the cars outside. The red and the orange threw funny shadows over his profile. Against her better judgment she found herself smiling at the sight.

Once upon a time, when it was still a little simpler, they had been in the same seat and shared the same nightlights. He had not heard the words from her lips, and there had been no drama to contend with. The worst angst of all was the fact that she was in a near nonexistent relationship with Nate.

They were older now. And she had said the words that he never returned. Most of the time she regretted the hasty exclamation. It did not get her what she wanted, and now she was on the losing end.

She licked her lips, and made an effort to start a conversation. "My parents are in love with you."

"Same with Lily. You're probably the best thing I've ever done." And then he cleared his throat. "Getting hitched to you, that is."

It was probably the night, or the familiar movement of the familiar limo under her, but his words made her playful. "Make no mistake, Bass, I _am _the best you've ever done."

He leaned closer, and she held her breath. He was so near her if she leaned forward just a little bit, her lips would probably touch his. "I'm well aware of that, Mrs Bass. Maybe that's why I married you."

Her eyebrow arched. "You married me to salvage a company," she reminded him, lest he forget, lest she forget.

"Right," he murmured.

"I'll see Queller tomorrow. We'll see if we can get your place back in St. Jude's. Nate is very lonely without there," she told him.

It was something to fill the air. After all, Nate had a life of his own now. She wondered if he even thought of Chuck. For a best friend, he sure didn't ask about the other boy much. She swore she was more of a best friend to Chuck than Nate had been the past few months—and she generally disliked Chuck at that.

"We're almost home," he told her.

And she was nowhere near her place, nor his. They were approaching the place he had bought, for the two of them. What kind of money, she wondered, did Chuck have to fork up to get a place that was perfect for them, fully furnished and midway between school and his company? Either he was a very lucky guy—which he was considering he did bag her, and escaped more near death capers than Batman—or he had been planning this for some time. If it was the latter, she wondered who else he considered marrying to show off his responsibility to the board.

The limo stopped in front of their place. He opened the door and helped her out, and they ran into the building. He was about to insert his key card into the elevator security slot, but she stopped him.

"I'll try mine."

"By all means, Mrs Bass," he agreed.

She slid her key into the slot, and the sharp ding that accompanied the recognition made her grin. She happily turned to Chuck, and was taken aback by the fondness in his eyes—almost like he was enjoying it, like she was not intruding in his life, like this was almost real.

"It worked!" she exclaimed.

"Of course it worked. It's your apartment."

"Our apartment," she said proudly when the elevator doors opened. She stepped out, but Chuck caught her arm.

"Your apartment," he corrected her. "My wedding gift to you." Her lips parted in surprise. While she was speechless, he took the opportunity to lift her up into his arms, making her loop her arms around his neck for balance. "Now I can't deny my wife the experience of being carried over the threshold, can I?"

He was amazing, she thought. He was amazing in that he could pretend and seem so sincere. No one could act like a lovesick newlywed better than Chuck Bass, she was sure. He had a future as an actor, if the entire CEO business did not work out.

"Chuck, put me down!" she protested laughingly as Chuck walked past the living room, and towards the corridor. He carried her up the flight of stairs. "What are you doing?"

She froze in his arms when he took her with him towards the bedroom. And just then, she almost felt like a real bride. He kicked the door open and walked with her towards the bed. And then, he dropped her right at the center. Blair sputtered and blew at the hair that had fallen over her face. She turned around and saw two sets of dressers, a closet large enough for two people with a ridiculous amount of clothes.

"Is this my bedroom?" she demanded.

"It's our bedroom. We're not from the eighteenth century, Blair. Husbands and wives share a bedroom these days," he replied.

"But I said we're not sleeping together!"

"I didn't know about that when I bought the house," he pointed out, "so you're going to have to suffer through my company at least until I can get a contractor to furnish a new bedroom."

"Oh." He had planned for any random girl, and he was going to share a room with that random girl. And suddenly, she was not as special. She was just the one who said yes. "Then at least tell me you have an air bed that you can use when you sleep on the floor. I would feel very bad if you had to sleep on the carpet."

He appeared offended. "I'm not going to molest you, Blair. We can sleep in the same bed, you know."

"I woke up with your arm around me," she reminded him tartly.

"If I remember right, your leg was thrown over mine," he pointed out.

"You are not sleeping in the same bed with me. We had an agreement," she insisted.

Chuck leaned forward. "Fine. I'll buy an airbed if you can't even trust yourself to keep your hands off of me."

She gasped, scandalized at the very thought of what he was insinuating. "Me? You're the one who was begging for it when I was with Marcus. You're the one who was blackmailing me out of being with Nate!"

"Right. What's the name of your new perfume again?" he drawled.

And then she noticed the fat grin on his face, realized he was enjoying it. She narrowed her eyes and threw a pillow at him, which he caught as it hit his gut. "You're incorrigible."

He tossed the pillow back on the bed. She froze when he sat beside her and placed a hand on the back of her neck. "And you're too tense. You're way too young to be so tense," he told her. "Is it me?" And she found the question so arrogant. "Am I making you tense?"

"Chuck, you don't affect me either way." To prove her point, she crawled into bed and laid down on the right side. "Go ahead. Sleep in the same bed. It doesn't matter to me."

Chuck grinned and crawled in after her, and she held her breath when he stared at her while on his hands and knees. And then, he settled on his side of the bed. She closed her eyes. "Sleep tight. We have an early flight tomorrow."

Her eyes flew open. "I have a meeting with Queller tomorrow, so I can convince her to let your sorry ass back into school."

Chuck shook his head. "Not anymore. I moved things around. You're going abroad."

"And Queller agreed? Chuck, it's my senior year!"

Chuck rolled out of bed and padded towards the vanity. He took a glossy envelope from the drawer and handed it to her. "You know as well as I do that the school tends to give seniors more slack. She was very happy to give you a week off."

Blair took the envelope and saw the tickets. They were flying commercial. He was not kidding when he said he had no real power in Bass right now. All the more reason for this charade to be successful. "We're going to Italy."

"Every young couple needs a honeymoon," he told her.

"Chuck—"

He held up his hand. "We'll be gone one week. When we come back, I'll be eighteen and Lily would hand the company to me. That's when the board will start to meet about my fate. We should have a honeymoon before that happens."

Slowly, she nodded. "Make it look real for them," she concluded.

"Sure." He shrugged. "But maybe I can have fun too. Either way it goes, I should have some nice honeymoon memories."

She understood that. If he was not going to be CEO, at least he had some fun beforehand. If he was, then the break would be a great way to start off the long period of transition he would face.

Whatever happened, the next week would be life-changing. She had to be there. She had to see him through it.

"Did someone pack my clothes like yours were miraculously packed?" she asked.

"I have a few things ready for you," he assured her. "The rest we'll get on the way."

She nodded. "Come on. You need some rest, because the moment we land, we're exploring. No post-flight sleep will be entertained."

Chuck settled back on the bed again, and Blair turned on her side to sleep. There was a full four feet between them. The alarm clock rang the next morning, and she opened her eyes to find that she had rolled to the center of the bed, her head pillowed on his arm and her nose buried in his armpit.

Her eyes fluttered as she became aware of her surroundings. Her leg was thrown over his hip. His knee was wedged between her thighs. Blair gasped, and she felt his arm tighten around her waist. "Chuck," she groaned.

"Yeah," he sighed.

She felt the movement against her forehead and realized his lips were pressed on her hairline. She wondered what time their flight was, because they would probably miss it. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation.

Little precious moments. He wasn't the only one who needed something to look back to when it was all over. She wished there was a device used to record feelings like this. It would come in handy when she's away in school and he was back to living his life. She could turn it on at night and she could imagine exactly how it felt to be in his embrace, with his static kiss on her skin.

"Mrs Bass," he said, shaking her gently. That. She could record that. Next time she would put her phone just where she could reach it, and she could record it. Then she could hear him call her that every day. He probably thought she had fallen back asleep. "Mrs Bass, wake up. We have to go."

"Uhhmmhmm," she murmured. Blair stretched, and she felt him free her from his arm and leg. She missed the weight. She sat up on the bed and blinked down at him, on the bed where he still lay down lazily and watched her. "Morning."

"You have something in your eye." He sat up and brushed at the corner of her eye. "It's gone."

"Thanks," she said uneasily. He was so close now, and it almost seemed natural to give him a peck on the lips as morning greetings. Chuck glanced at the clock. How did a wife greet her husband anyway? Her mother used to give her dad a peck on the cheek. She quickly darted forward with her lips to kiss his cheek, but he turned back to her to say something and she caught his open lips instead.

"Uuummm."

And he was so fast and smooth that within a second, they were caught in a liplock, with morning breath and champagne tongues, and suddenly the clear cut line between a marriage and what they had just blurred.

She took his face in her hands, and his hands covered hers. And then he was all around her and she could smell nothing but him. Her eyes fluttered open. Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away, took her hands off of his cheeks. And he closed his hand around hers.

"Come on," he invited her, his voice a little hoarse. "I'm not going to be late on another flight to Italy. I learned my lesson the first time."

Her eyes followed him as he hurried into the bathroom. She heard the water run, and she called out, "Don't use up all the hot water."

"I'm taking a cold shower," he yelled back out at her.

Blair released a long breath, then collapsed back into bed. She looked at herself in the mirror, and saw a silly grin on her face.

This was not going well at all.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

She was humming, almost singing while she showered. He had left her all the hot water, so she should be happy with that. He hoped she saw the two plastic bottles that he had left at the sink. It was difficult to figure out what shampoo and conditioner she used. If he asked Dorota, Blair would know about it immediately. He preferred many of these to be a surprise. And so just before he went to get her, to present the paper that he had convinced Lily to sign, he asked his limo driver to stop at the drugstore.

He spent a full half hour unsnapping bottles and getting a whiff of the contents, trying to figure out which brand it was he smelled in her hair.

Which reminded him. He fished for the two travel-sized mini bottles of the same and slid them into his check-in bag. There was a brief knock on the door. He checked his watch and opened the door to see his father's secretary already dressed up. This was why his father kept her around even with Harvard MBAs applying for the position, even after Gina turned past thirty five, which was the expiration date of most low-level employees in Bass.

The woman handed him the envelope. "Your passports, Mr Bass."

He smirked, then took the documents. "And Blair's?"

"It's in the envelope, sir. Her mother was not very happy that you sent a secretary for it. She wanted to see Mrs Bass before you left."

He should get used to reaction like that from Eleanor, the way Eleanor should get used to him as well. After all, wasn't Eleanor the first one to use the word 'forever'? He was bound to disappoint her at least once a week.

"Gina, have the limo waiting for us at the lobby in fifteen minutes. Mrs Bass," he said—and he just enjoyed how that name fell from his lips—"is already in the shower."

"Of course, Mr Bass," his father's assistant, now his, answered. Gina's gaze flickered to the slightly open bathroom door. "If I may be so bold, Mr Bass. Has she been in the shower long?"

He didn't see how that made a difference. "About ten minutes in already."

"You have about forty five minutes more before you'll need the limo, sir," Gina offered. "But I'll have it waiting just the same."

"Forty minutes?" Chuck scoffed. "That's ridiculous!"

"Yes, sir," answered the assistant.

"You think?"

"I'm a woman," Gina responded. Chuck shook his head at the gentle sarcasm. The woman had been working for his father for so long that she had seen him sprout from the gangly kid he had been, and thus out of all the employees of Bass Industries just easily spoke to him in ways other people did not dare. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have me call for the company jet, Mr Bass? You know it's ready for you anytime."

Of course it was. Not even the prudes on the board could take away all the luxuries his father had given him. Bart Bass had prided himself so much on giving his son everything he never had, and not even in his will would Bart allow his son to appear so poor that he would need to buy a ticket to fly.

But Chuck had bought a ticket, especially for Blair. She would see that he had to buy a ticket.

He was playing her, but a man had to do what a man had to do.

"I'm trying to make it a romantic honeymoon. There's nothing more romantic than slumming it," he told the assistant.

"Mr Bass, first class is not slumming it."

Poor people just did not understand it. He closed the door behind Gina after another reminder for the limo to wait at the lobby. He checked his watch. Blair had been in the shower for twenty minutes, and it did not sound like she was turning off the water anytime soon. He knocked on the door.

"Blair, you know commercial flights follow a schedule, don't you?" he called into the bathroom.

She did not answer. Chuck knocked again. When there was no response, he pushed the bathroom door open and peered inside.

He saw her silhouette moving underneath the fog in the shower. The sight was more titillating than any flick he had ever watched in the privacy of his room. He could not see her except for her form, the shadow moving behind the screen. She hummed still, and coupled with the noise of running water, it was easy to understand how she could not hear him.

Her silhouette straightened. He saw the shadow of her arm reach for the knob and turn the water off. She faced him, naked but still completely blurred out by the translucent glass blocking her. But the glass might as well have been transparent with how sharply he could see her curves, the dark shadows, the crevices.

"Chuck, go away!" she demanded.

"We're almost late, Blair!" he retorted. It almost sounded like a choking cry, so he cleared his throat.

"Argh," she groaned in irritation. "I cannot believe we're flying commercial." Chuck grinned and leaned against the doorway, watched her shadow reach to pull the towel from the rod. She dried her hair and wrapped it around herself, making the only difference to him the thicker silhouette he was watching. "If it was the private plane we can just postpone it. Or cancel!"

Exactly his point.

"Just hurry," he drawled. "I used my own allowance to pay for those tickets."

"Fine," she muttered. "Now get out so I can finish."

He reluctantly pulled himself together and closed the door behind him. Sharing a bathroom with a wife was turning out to be a brilliant idea. He wondered what she would do if she found out he still hadn't hired a contractor to work on another bedroom, another bathroom.

His phone vibrated in his hand. He saw the name and smirked. "Nathaniel," he greeted.

"I saw it," were the first words from his best friend. Chuck assumed he was referring to yesterday's Gossip Girl blast. "When you talked about it last week, I thought it was the ramblings of a drunken Chuck Bass."

Chuck glanced behind him. The bathroom door was still closed. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. "You should know by now, Nathaniel—" He walked out of the bedroom, past the corridors, down the stairs and towards the living room. "The ramblings of a drunken Chuck Bass are as reliable as those of sober Chuck."

"You really did it."

Chuck marveled at the disbelief in Nathaniel's voice. It was not as if he had ever done anything halfway in his life. Nathaniel knew him well enough.

"Are you going to tell her?" Nate inquired.

But he was stubborn. "Tell her what?"

Nate shook his head. He could hear the movement from the phone. "Exactly how did you get Blair to marry you?"

Chuck shook his head. "You need my secrets, Nathaniel?" he asked. "Planning on tricking Vanessa into marrying you? Because honestly, Archibald, you don't need to trick her. She'd get hitched to you if you so much as cough."

"You're changing the topic. How did you do it, man? She hates you. You didn't threaten her, did you? Did you blackmail her again?"

"Let me deal with my wife the way I see fit," Chuck said firmly. Because he had the right now. She was his wife. And he had probably wanted to tell Nate to that Blair was not his business, but Chuck's, since Blair turned seventeen. "And Blair doesn't hate me. She wouldn't have agreed to this if she did."

But, Chuck admitted, she probably found him pathetic.

Good thing for him, or this entire plan would never have worked. He was proud of himself. He only came up with the entire plan one week ago, drowning his sorrows in scotch and spouting off the injustice of her rejection to Nate.

He made his way back up the stairs and to the bedroom. When he opened the door, she looked up to him and smiled. She made her way over to him and held up a lock of freshly blow-dried hair. He held her gaze, then carefully sniffed. "You found them," he said.

"Thank you. It was very thoughtful." She turned around and went over to the closet, then started looking through the dresses hanging there. She took three and laid them out on the bed. "I know we're in a hurry," she said. "But you have to tell me which one looks best on me."

"You can wear any of them," he assured her. "You would look amazing." She looked at him and he saw the confusion in her eyes. "I'm trying to start the honeymoon on a positive note," he informed her.

"Sounds reasonable," she agreed.

"Take the red dress," he decided. "The red one I bought you last year looked amazing on you."

She looked up at him in surprise. "I didn't think you noticed." Still, she folded the dress and slid it in her bag.

"I noticed." He picked up one bag and then extended his hand. She took it and he grinned. "Just because I didn't comment on it didn't mean I didn't think you were gorgeous."

"Alright," she breathed. "Now hurry before we're too late to check in."

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Did you guys read Promise of Forever? I just wanted to say… Santa Maria del Fiore (Duomo) is where Blair and Chuck got _'married'_ in Part 10 of that fic. I was reminiscing the story towards the end of this.

**Part 7**

He always thought his wife was cute whenever he saw her at the courtyard writing in her notebook like a little nerd. She always thought she was too cool and sophisticated to be branded like that, and for the most part she was. That was why no one ever called her a geek or a bookworm. But still he smirked every time he saw her writing her notes, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth in a thin line showing her focus.

Compared to the rest of the breakfast club, she was a nerd.

It was often adorable, he had to admit. But this time, when he glanced at what she was writing down, the sight of her planning their itinerary was disheartening.

He reached for the notebook, and she slapped his hand away. "Go look out the window," she commanded, as if he were a child.

"There's nothing but clouds," he drawled.

She hushed him, then plucked the airline magazine from its place and handed it to him. Chuck took the glossy periodical and browsed through it. He spotted an attractive advertisement and opened his mouth to suggest the tourist destination, then noticed the already full page on her notebook. He returned to his magazine.

About an hour later, the pilot's voice came over the PA and announced that they were approaching their destination. Her exclamation interrupted the pilot's statement, so he turned to her and found her with a grin of pride on her face. She held her notebook out to him.

Chuck took the notebook and read the items with their corresponding time allotment. Even bathroom breaks were scheduled in for ten minutes each occurrence. "If I have to go pee, you have to go pee?" he asked pointedly.

"And vice versa," she confirmed.

Chuck's eyebrows met. "Wake up at five, coffee and breakfast at six, then hit four medieval churches by one. Lunch at one?" He shook his head. "No, no. I'll be hungry by eleven if you're making me eat breakfast at six. Speaking of which—"

"Look at seven am!" she said sharply.

"Seven eleven."

"Or any convenience store," she clarified. "I'm going to buy power bars and candies so you can eat something quickly on the road. We're only here for a week."

"So let me get this straight: You want me to nourish myself on power bars, wake up at five and go attraction-hopping, scheduled my rest time down to the last minute…"

She nodded.

"Mrs Bass, you expect too much from me."

"Not my fault that you expect too little of yourself, Bass," she pointed out. "You're capable of so much more."

Chuck blinked. "Wait, what?"

She shrugged. "We're sticking to the itinerary."

The itinerary that left little or no time at all for the sidetrips he had busted his ass planning for a week. "We're not sticking to this," he told her, setting her expectations. "This is ridiculous." He tossed the notebook over to her lap. "And we're waking up at ten."

"Why?" she demanded. "Because instead of going to these amazing places that have been standing for hundreds of years, you're planning on going to bars and getting drunk? You can do that at home, Chuck," she said, her voice acerbic.

"If I wanted a headache, I wouldn't need to get hung over. I can just listen to you talk," he muttered.

Blair gasped. "That is awful!"

"Glad you know."

She pursed her lips, then picked up her notebook. "Fine." She tore the page she had been working on for the latter half of the flight. She ripped the page up to pieces. "Any suggestions?"

He watched the little pieces of paper float to the airplane floor. Chuck smirked. His wife was so dramatic it was funny. She probably thought of all the negative parts of this entire marriage.

If she could even think of any. He made this entire thing so easy for her that he was never prouder of himself and his scheming. "I planned this honeymoon," he reminded her. "Of course I have ideas."

She rolled her eyes. "When you planned to honeymoon with your wife, you probably thought you'd spend the whole day getting some."

The moment he decided, in that drunken haze he had been with Nate, that he was going to swallow his pride and figure out a way to skip the apologies and get hitched to Blair, Chuck knew it would be abstinence for a good while.

"Is that a suggestion or a request?" he asked with a grin.

"Neither!"

The pilot's voice sounded in the plane. "We are hitting a patch of turbulence during our descent. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened."

The plane hit the rough air and shook. "Oh my God," she whispered. Chuck felt Blair's hand grip his. He turned his hand over so he could twine their fingers. With his free hand he checked the lock on her seatbelt and pulled to test it. It was a good twenty seconds, and then the descent turned smooth. He took his hand away from her seatbelt.

The plane landed quietly, and they sped through the runway. Her hand was still tight on his, her eyes squeezed closed. The plane stopped, and Chuck raised their entwined hands so he could kiss her knuckles.

"We're here," he whispered.

Blair's eyes fluttered open. She glanced out the window and released a deep breath.

"Okay," she breathed. "We're okay."

He nodded. His eyes fell to her parted lips. There was just that slight tremor on the lower lip. Nate never told him Blair got nervous in turbulence. He racked his brain trying to figure out who else had flown with her, and why he never knew about it. Her eyes were wide, with just that hint of fear. He swallowed, moved closer. He touched his lips on hers, and it wasn't a kiss really. He did not press deeply, or urged her to open further. He did not use his tongue or hold her head. It was just that—a brief touch of his lips on hers.

When he lifted his lips from hers he felt her breathe, felt the air against his mouth. "You're okay. I wouldn't have let anything happen to you."

She nodded. "It was crazy last time. Your private jet fell a good nine hundred feet before the pilot got control back."

He had not heard about that. "Last year?"

She blinked, forced her eyes away. "Yes." The seatbelt light died, and she unsnapped herself and stood up. "Good thing Ben was calm throughout."

He watched as her back straightened, and she picked up her purse. Ben. The guy who introduced her to Marcus. She had a scare on the flight that he should have been on. Chuck combed his fingers through his hair. Since she was in the aisle seat, it was easy for her to make her way to the exit.

"Blair," he called out.

To his surprise, she stopped and waited. He almost stumbled moving after her, which was stupid because the spaces were considerable in first class.

"Thank you," he said when he reached her. The simple comment seemed to make her happy because she nodded and her face relaxed. "There's a car waiting for us outside the airport," he informed her.

"Straight to the hotel?" she asked as they deplaned.

Chuck's hand closed around her elbow as they walked to the baggage claim. "No. You can rest in the car. We're driving to the hills outside Florence. I have a table reserved for us in San Michele." He had spent two days of the last week searching for the best restaurant he could take her to for the first night of their honeymoon. "It has the best view of the city. We need to be there by sunset so you can watch."

She turned to him and her eyes were shining. Her grin made the hassle of reserving a table at the restaurant from the US worth every minute and language barrier pain. "Chuck," she said, stretching her words, obviously about to tease him, "did you make an itinerary of your own? Is that why you insulted mine?"

He spotted her bags coming on the belt. "I insulted yours because it was worthy of insults," he told her. He reached for the bags and heaped them on the floor. "And I don't have an itinerary."

She shook her head. "Where are we going after San Michele?"

"The car will take us to Excelsior," he pointed out. He loved the surprise in her eyes, and wondered why that would be there. Of course he would take her to the most luxurious hotel in the heart of the city. She deserved nothing less. "We're going to sleep."

Chuck's single bag rolled in front of her, and she grabbed it. Chuck reached for the handle, but she already lifted it off the belt and onto the floor. "Stay here. I'm getting a trolley."

"I'll get it," he protested.

She threw over her shoulder as she walked away, "Guard the bags."

She was insanely stubborn. When Nate talked about her—and he always seemed to think back to Nate's rants and raves because they were the only clues he had to how a relationship with Blair worked—he never referred to this type of stubbornness. In fact, Nate had made Blair sound so obedient and caring, fawning to a fault.

His wife seemed like such a different person from Nate's ex girlfriend. But that was impossible.

He picked up his bag and turned the numerical lock, then unzipped the hidden pocket. He took out the small box and opened it to reveal the diamond earrings he had gotten to match his mother's engagement ring.

Sunset at San Michele and confession on the first day of their honeymoon.

He couldn't give her a dream wedding, but this honeymoon was going to be straight out of her dreams.

Over their famous thin vegetable soup, red wine and ravioli, he would tell the words she had been waiting for, let her know the company was not in jeopardy.

Fuck. He was going to look her in the eye and admit how much a loser he was that he couldn't just say sorry. Instead, he had to come up with a huge plan to get her good and married to him.

She looked pretty pushing the trolley back towards him.

He hoped the diamonds were bigger, because if she remained unimpressed, he was headed for an annulment.

He lifted the bags onto the trolley, then took the handle from her. "Thank you, Mrs Bass."

"So where are we going tomorrow?"

"I'm not anal enough to program our honeymoon," he told her. Besides, it all depended on whether or not she was still talking to him after San Michele. "But I was thinking it would be a good idea to visit the Uffizi gallery first, then we can talk a walk down Ponte Vecchio." She would go insane over the jewelers all along that bridge.

"We're not going to the Duomo?"

"The day after," he said swiftly. Did she think he was so uncultured that he would forget one of the most important sites in Florence? The Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore was the first site he programmed in his head when he decided honeymoon would be in Florence. "We'll go before we leave for grape-picking down at Chianti."

Blair laughed softly, shook her head. She sounded pleasant.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just that you said you didn't do itineraries."

"I don't," he insisted. Blair walked ahead of him. "You brought the red dress, didn't you?"

"You saw me bring it."

"Wear it to the restaurant," he suggested. "We'll stop by the bathroom before we go to the car."

If she got mad after his confession, then red was the perfect color for war. If she was happy, which he desperately hoped she would be despite Nate's reservations, red was the color for those three words he would try not to choke on.

Yeah, he thought of these things too. Just not itineraries.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I know you were expecting something else, but some of you already know I don't veer away from my plotlines. Hope you're not too disappointed by what does happen here.

**Part 8**

He had never been more nervous in his life, and he only had himself to blame. All the way to San Michele he had thought over and over about her possible reaction to his confession. Every time he thought of what Blair would do, or say, or look like when he told her the truth, he needed to take a swig of the scotch that sat in the back of the car. She eyed him warily and shook her head.

"Chuck, isn't it a little too early for that?"

In response, he filled a glass—not even a shot glass, but a full on champagne flute—with scotch and let the drink burn a path down his throat.

By the time they were at the hills, his eyes were pulling shut. "Something is wrong with the shocks of this car," he slurred. "I don't get dizzy like this in my limo."

She made a face, then offered, "Maybe I should ask the driver to take us into the city instead. We can go to Excelsior and you can sleep this off there."

"What?" Chuck shook his head, and registered that it was a bad idea when he felt his brain swim with alcohol. "No, no." She was in her red dress, with its nice little paisley print wriggling on the cloth like baby caterpillars. He didn't remember that dress being printed, but it sure looked printed now. "We need to be in San Michele so you can see Florence at sunset. This has to be perfect."

"You do know you're drunk," she told him.

"I don't get drunk!" he insisted.

The car stopped at the end of a garden, right at the bottom of a long flight of stone steps surrounded by shrubs and flowers. Blair started to climb out of the car, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait, wait. I know what to do." She glanced at him puzzled. "Stay here," he told her. Blair nodded. "You look pretty, Mrs Bass," he informed her, then smirked and stumbled out of the car.

That was the first thing he was supposed to say to her when they got to San Michele. And he did it. He placed one foot in front of the other. Something was wrong with the leveling of that hill, because he was having a hard time walking in a straight line now. They should really find a way to fix this.

He cursed himself. He was supposed to say she was pretty over the vegetable soup, while he sat across from her, and the candlelight illuminated her face.

Wait, no. The sun would still be up over appetizers, so there wouldn't be candlelight.

Damn irresponsible planning. Maybe he should have made a detailed itinerary of his confession.

There had to be a way to salvage this. He was now supposed to go to her side and open the door, walk her up the stone steps and into the San Michele hotel lobby, then lead her to the restaurant. Chuck walked towards the back of the car. Before he could make it to her door, his heart was thundering in his ears. Bile rose to his throat.

Shit.

He ran towards the shrubs and dropped to his knees. And then he found himself emptying his stomach into the bushes.

"Chuck," she said, laying down her hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

Which just meant he couldn't even do what he planned to do, and open the door to help her out of the car. He needed more scotch to erase this humiliation.

When it was over, at least for a while, her felt her throw his arm around her shoulders and pull him up with her. "We're going to the hotel you booked in Florence."

"No," he protested. He needed to tell her all about it, and this was where he had planned to do it. "We have reservations. Do you know how hard it is to book a table here?"

And damn if there weren't two of her swimming in his vision.

"Fine."

She helped him up the garden stone steps towards the hotel restaurant. Chuck tried to pull away and walk on his own, but at the level of balance he currently had, he was afraid he would topple to his death before he could even tell her anything. And then she would be pissed off to know that even with the prenup, everything had been left to her.

She would probably bash his already crushed skull in when she found out.

They made it to the restaurant, and he noticed the sweat that had gathered on her nape from the trek on the steps with the added burden of his weight. The hostess led them to their table, right beside the window and the perfect view of the hills of Tuscany.

She picked up the napkin and blotted at her forehead. She was gasping for breath. Blair used the menu to fan herself with, much to the disdain of the hostess. "Can you bring us some water first?"

She was sweaty and exhausted and this had been as far from his plan as it could be.

"Can you send a bottle of wine ahead?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. Sure, she could roll her eyes. If he did, he would probably throw up again.

"It's beautiful, Chuck," she told him. "Thank you for thinking of this."

They turned to see the blazing sky in full view as the sun set. The sight was seventy percent of the entire cost of the dining experience. Even with the haze of alcohol clouding his brain, he could still see the utter pleasure on her face. The hostess quietly poured two glasses of red wine.

"Beautiful," he said.

Blair turned to him to agree, and noticed he was staring at her instead of the sunset.

"I have something to tell you," he began.

The waitress reappeared with a two glasses of water for their table. At the interruption, he poured the contents of his wineglass down his throat. Then, he picked up the bottle and poured himself another glass. He placed down the bottle again, and at his lack of balance knocked her own glass down, spilling wine onto her red dress.

"Sorry," he slurred.

Blair shot up in her seat and held up a hand. "It's okay."

She looked up at the waitress, who gestured to the back. "Bathroom is this way, signora."

He was fucking it up.

Blair hurried away to wash the stain from her dress. At the back of his head the thought occurred to him that she did not need to worry, because it was red and he spilled red wine. And then the next thought was that he could buy a dozen of the same dresses, so she did not need to go to the bathroom.

He needed to salvage the night. Chuck picked up the bottle of wine and filled her glass again. Then, he drank his wine and thought Florence did make delicious wines. He poured another glass.

She was taking too long. He tried to stand, but his knees were near jelly from the effect of mixing wine with scotch. He tried to pull himself out of the chair and just fell back into it. Chuck pushed the chair back, and found himself flat on his back on the floor.

He closed his eyes, then opened them to see the hostess peering down at him.

"Are you fine, signor?"

"Where's my wife?" he slurred. Chuck closed his eyes. Shit. Blair was right. He was ninety two percent sure he was drunk. He opened his eyes again and the next face he saw was the worried one of Blair. "Mrs Bass," he greeted, "turns out you were right. Wives are always right."

He woke up in a soft mattress, on a bed he did not deserve. Chuck rolled to his side and found himself facing the wide open floor length windows, with flimsy sheer curtains dancing in the wind. Right by the windows, in the large armchair, Blair hugged her knees to her chest. She was still wearing her stained red dress.

Chuck sat up on the bed and realized that the faint sound that woke him was her crying.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth. He had ruined her dress like he ruined her night. He was a complete idiot, and now the opportunity he had been waiting for was gone.

"We're in San Michele. I booked us a room so you can sleep it off," she told him. "And I called Excelsior and told them we'd be driving in tomorrow."

He walked over to her and knelt down in front of her chair. His hand reached out and touched the stain on her dress.

"It didn't wash off," she told him.

Chuck leaned over and placed a kiss on her collarbone. "Sorry. I'll get you a new one." She sucked in her breath, then craned her neck to offer her more skin. He pressed a kiss on the back of her ear. "Sorry about tonight. I screwed it up. The only perfect part of it was you."

"You're still drunk," she breathed out when he ran a hot tongue on the shell of her ear.

"I'm completely sober," he told her. His thumb hooked on the strap of her red dress and pulled it down off her shoulder. "And you're beautiful."

He felt her fingers bury themselves in his hair. Chuck grinned and continued the kisses down her arms.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

He pulled down the top of her dress to release her breasts. She held her breath. Chuck looked up at her. "I love you."

Her lips parted. She bit her bottom lip when she watched him dip his head and take one of her nipples into his mouth. "Oh. You are so drunk," she repeated. He nipped on the underside of her breast. "So, so drunk."

His hands reached down to push up the skirt of her dress. With his fingers he pulled her panties off her legs and then parted her thighs to make room for him. The panties hung from one of her ankles as she rested her calves on the arms of the chair.

"I love you," he told her again.

"This isn't really a honeymoon, Chuck," she repeated.

He placed his hands on her ass and pulled her up against him. His pants were still zipped, but he hissed at the heat that was her against him. "This isn't going to work," he muttered. Quickly he freed himself from his pants and boxers, then lifted her up against him. Blair held onto his shoulders and he lifted her so that he was standing, and her legs would be wrapped around him. "I love you. That's what I wanted to say." She lifted herself up on his body, and he reached down to position himself. He held her gaze while he guided himself inside her while she sank down onto him.

"It's day one," she gasped into his ear. "Day one and I'm already breaking it." Blair clutched at his shoulders as she rode him. "Wait. Not deep enough," she cried out.

Chuck staggered on his feet and pushed her back onto the tall windows. She grasped the window frame with one hand and held on as he pushed into her. He heard the sound of her body thumping against the glass each time he pushed. "How's that?" he hissed.

"Perfect," she moaned.

At least that was one more thing perfect about the night that was completely ruined. He felt her clench around him, scream against the crook of his neck. He was straining with the effort of holding himself in, and when she finished, Chuck pulled out and let himself go on her bare thighs.

There were still far too many clouds hanging over them. No need to add one more.

She leaned against him limply, so he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. Chuck sat her on the toilet seat cover. He ran hot water over a hot towel and then squeezed the excess off. With it, he went back to her and wiped himself off her legs.

"I'll use a condom next time," he promised her.

"Next time?" she choked out.

He did not bother to address her question. It had to be obvious after this. If she thought they could keep their hands off each other, she was insane. "Unless you're on the pill."

"I didn't have any reason to be," she told him.

And that just warmed his heart. He helped her out of the ruined dress and into one of the bathrobes. They went to bed and he helped her under the covers to sleep. Within seconds, he was dead to the world.

He woke up that morning to see her in the large armchair again. This time, she was looking at him. He couldn't help but think that from now on he would wake up every day for the rest of his lives expecting to see her. He smiled.

"You're such a mess," she said gently. He wondered what that meant, because she seemed both sad and happy at the same time, with that smile.

"Because I got drunk and ruined what should have been a spectacular evening?" She shook her head and glanced out the window at the rising sun. Chuck never woke up early enough to see sunrise. And that was when he saw it. Opportunity. "Blair, what I said last night," he started.

"You were drunk," she interjected. Blair looked back at him and assured him, "Don't worry about me, Chuck. I won't jump into conclusions."

Blair leaned down and picked up the pants he had shed there that dawn, and tossed them at him. He caught them with one hand. "We should ride back into the city now," she told him.

Plan number one just failed big time.

tbc

**AN: **I am somehow in a ridiculously lighthearted mood today, so no Pathway. And yeah yeah I know my parts are short, but other people's are shorter. lol. Forgive me. I try to make it for it through frequency.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **Okay, yeah, I got a little carried away. This is more than what I plotted out to write. As always, thank you for your kindness. When I think I don't want to write a part and I just want to laze around watching tv, I see your reviews coming into my email, and I just get inspired. Thanks.

To those waiting on **Heaven in Your Embrace**, just a few more days, my friends. **Pathways** is wrapping up. But man, I just got another fic idea that won't leave me alone. I have got to get a grip.

**Part 9**

The trip was quiet, with neither of them looking at each other throughout the ride. He had on his pair of sunglasses to block out the sunlight, unwilling to let his hangover show. She had on a pair as well, and he knew it was because she was going to sleep.

Some little part of him was proud. He exhausted her. He exhausted a lot of girls after a bout of sex, but he mostly cared about tiring her out. It showed her his talents, and gave her one reason to keep him at least.

She can chalk this up as a benefit of being married to him, once she knew it was one big fat scheme and she was debating whether or not he was worth it.

The door swung open and Chuck's eyes widened. He sent up a curse. The room was surrounded by flickering candles. It was midmorning, and the candles filling the room completely sucked out all the oxygen with the dancing flames.

That was when he remembered his standing request for the hotel staff to light the candles when they arrived. After all, he had assumed, arrogantly enough, that after his San Michele confession they would arrive in Excelsior to a real honeymoon.

The flower petals on the floor were a bit much, and during his over the phone discussion with the hotel guest relations officer, he had not pictured how over the top it would be. It was particularly distressing to see that the edges of the petals had darkened. Obviously, the hotel expected them last night.

"This is silly," he choked out, suddenly embarrassed seeing what his plan conjured in broad daylight.

Blair walked into the suite, stepping over the petals, crushing them as she passed. He watched her quietly as she bent over the coffee table and blew out the candles there. He hurried inside and let the bellboys bring in their bags, then handed them a few bills. He closed the door behind them and then proceeded to the mantle to blow out the candles there as well.

His heart was in his throat, and it was difficult to expel enough air to blow out all the candles in the suite. He had to hand it to the hotel staff. When he said fill the room with candles, they had gone all out and lit candles in the living area, the dining area, went all out in the bedroom—he and Blair had to work together to blow out all hundred eighteen of those candles. It had been so many and he suspected they were both starving for oxygen that they bent over to the same candle over the headboard of the bed, on their hands and knees on the soft mattress.

"I got this," she offered breathlessly.

He still could not find the exact balance of being a gentleman, and so he insisted, "Allow me."

And perhaps it was the fact that the entire situation was ridiculous that she grinned and said, "Let's blow it out together."

The light mood was infectious, and he sang sloppily, "Happy birthday to you; happy birth—"

She giggled, then told him, "You didn't drink anything on the way here, did you?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Stone cold sober," he informed her. "Happy birthday, dear Blair. Happy birth—"

She blew out the candle.

"Cheater!" he exclaimed.

"It was taking too long!" she defended herself. Blair reached out to scoop the hot wax with her finger until she had a dollop on the tip. He watched her lips form a pointed 'o' as she blew on the wax until the temperature was manageable. She bit her lower lip, giving him a fascinating sight of the shy, playful Blair he met their first go round. Her eyes sparkled as she pressed the warm wax on his nose.

He caught her by her waist and laid her on her back on the mattress. She gasped and laughed. The wax hardened on his nose and as he pressed her back on the mattress, gravity made the piece of wax fall onto her and onto her cheek. She turned her head to knock the wax off her face. When she turned, rose petals stuck to her cheek. Chuck plucked them one by one and laid them on her breast.

"It's a bit much, isn't it?" she said.

Chuck smirked. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Are you kidding?" Blair gasped. She moved under him to find a more comfortable position. He felt himself stiffen, and hoped—to no avail of course—that she would not feel him responding to her movement. "It's like Valentine's day exploded in here, like Cupid got diarrhea and stank the place up with romance, like—"

"I get it," he interrupted. "Anyway," he continued, lifting his weight off her body and sitting down on the bed, pretty sure the crushed roses would stick to his Zegna suit, "it was all supposed to follow the spectacular dinner in San Michele."

He felt the mattress move behind him as she struggled to sit. "Dinner up in the hills and then all this." Her hand rested on his shoulder. "Chuck, what were you trying to do?"

And there was the question that was the perfect lead in to his confession. He turned his head and saw her leaning towards him from the other side of the bed, still in her ruined red dress on a ridiculously clichéd bed of roses. Her hair had fallen in messy disarray.

He chuckled a little, finding the humor in a situation that would paint him in such a pathetic manner. Odd enough that he did not seem to mind it now, for all his bluster.

Honesty was supposed to be the best policy. He wondered if people took a poll since then, and honesty had fallen from the top. But there must be a reason everyone preached the adage, so he tried it.

"I was trying to turn this into a real honeymoon," he confessed.

The humor in her face faded. "Chuck, didn't we agree that—"

"You know it's not over," he cut her off. "Last night proved it."

She held her breath, furrowed her brows and looked at him. "You remember last night?" she said tentatively. "You were drunk out of your mind."

Why did nobody think he had his faculties when he was drunk? It had not even been like he was drunk during the act. He had vomited and slept off most of the alcohol by that time. "I never forget moments with you, Mrs Bass."

She flushed. "How much do you remember?"

That was it. The sex, or the I love you.

"Everything," he answered, holding her gaze so she would know he was not kidding around.

This was the perfect time. He probably should light back some of the candles, but it was still daylight and he would look stupid running around lighting candles they had just blown out.

Confession time.

"Blair," he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. He turned her arm and placed a kiss on her wrist. "I have something to tell you."

He thanked all the staff at Westin Excelsior that there was no minibar in the bedroom, or he would be racing to it now with his heart going wild thumping.

"I—"

Her lashes lowered, and he could tell she enjoyed the warm movement of his lips on her skin. "I have something to say first," she whispered.

"What is it?" he asked. Later that night he would regret responding with that, just because he should have moved forward with his confession before hearing her declaration. It was not even mean, her declaration. In fact, it was the kindest thing she had ever said.

She wriggled closer to him until there was a pile of rose petals between them. "Everything you said last night," she began. "You meant them?"

"That I love you?"

"Yeah."

"I did," he agreed.

Her eyes grew teary as she sat in front of him. "You gave in," she said, grinning. "Three words."

He cupped her cheek with his hand, smiling back. They were so simple to say, after he said them the first time. The first time had been agonizing, but looking at her, seeing how happy they made her...

"Eight letters. I did." He turned around on the bed so he could fully face her. Chuck leaned forward and captured her lips. "But for the record, you said them first."

She nodded. "And you had to get drunk to have enough balls to say them."

"For the record?" She nodded. "Can we make that off the record?"

Blair laughed softly. "Oh no. It's going on record."

He pretended to be put off, then shrugged. "Fine."

"Anyway, this is what I wanted to say." Blair smiled, and he felt her cheeks move under his hand. He loved to feel her under his hand, when she smiled, when she slept, when he brought her to the edge of her sanity as his fingers pushed her nearer and nearer to a climax. "Thank you for being so completely honest. I didn't think we would ever get here, but here we are."

"Blair—"

She moved forward to kiss him, and his mouth opened under her lips. "Last night I was starting to regret all this. And I swore I couldn't deal with us anymore. We were in some sort of whirlpool getting dragged down." Her arms wrapped around him, and he was surrounded by warmth. It was like he had found heaven. "Not anymore. And I love you for that."

Look there. Something was horribly wrong in his heaven.

"That's a relief," he managed.

"What did you want to tell me?" she prompted him.

"Nothing," he answered. Lightning was going to strike him. He was pretty sure of it.

She pulled away from him and climbed out of the bed. "It's nine. We don't have to be in the Uffizi gallery until ten."

He nodded. "We should change." He was in a suit he had proudly worn to make last night's dinner memorable, and he had ruined her dress twice.

She reached for the clasp at the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor. "We can take a shower first."

His eyes slammed back up to her, and he saw the enticing little smile she had on. He swallowed. The miracle those three little words could do. He was never going to hesitate again. His hands flew up to undo the buttons of his shirt. She stepped forward and helped him with his pants.

She reached down and cupped him. Chuck sucked in his breath when she started rubbing her palm up and down his length.

"Mrs Bass," he gasped, "an hour won't be enough if you're going to insist on that."

Her eyes flew up and he swore she meant to flutter her lashes. "I've seen paintings and sculptures before. We can skip it."

He broke into a fat grin. She let go of her pants, and they fell to the floor. He kicked it away, then shrugged off his shirt. He offered her his hand, and she took it. She pulled her with him towards the bathroom only to discover that the candles there were still lit, the wax dripping on the marble creating the mood for them.

"There's a bathtub," Blair observed. She turned on the faucet to fill it. "We'll take a bath instead of a shower."

"Yes, Mrs Bass."

She whirled around, then threw her arms around his neck. "I love hearing you say that," she told him.

"I love saying it," he admitted. He took the opportunity to take care of her bra clasp. He took off the undergarment until she pressed against him with her bare chest.

She went back to the tub, which was halfway full, bent down and poured the bath salts in. He walked over to her and slowly started pulling off her panties. "Excited, are we?"

He pressed himself behind her so his hardness could answer her question. Blair dipped her hand in the water. His hand crawled closer to her opening. She caught his wrist. She turned to give him a peck on the cheek, then dipped his wandering hand in the water to test the temperature. "How's that?"

His lips curved against her neck. "I'd dive into a boiling cauldron for you."

"Like the big bad wolf."

It reminded him of simpler times. "I do want to ravish you."

"Of course you do," she pointed out. She always did know that, even years ago. But she had made a discovery the past year, one that she now admitted freely to. "I want to ravish you too." Only, he knew, because she thought he was completely honest. The fact that he could not tell her everything now stuck to his gut. She was going to fillet him alive if she found out later. "Get in the tub so I can start."

Chuck sighed. "Yes, Mrs Bass." Better men would probably have decided not to do it until he could confess to everything. Chuck never pretended to be a great man.

He stepped into the tub and held out his hands so that he could help her keep her balance as she joined him. They sank into the tub, splashing water out onto the floor. Immediately, she went over to lie in his arms.

"I love you," she said. "No matter how long this lasts, I want you to know I love you."

There it was again, that ominous feeling he got. It started with the way she looked at him, right after they got married. And now, it was violating the moments he held most sacred.

He turned her around so that she could face him. She was slippery as she settled against him. He pulled her legs over his so that she could sit facing him. He placed kisses under her chin. "I love you," he said.

She held onto her shoulders as she lifted herself. Her hand dove into the water and grasped him. Chuck held her face in his hands and pressed a deep kiss in her mouth as she gripped him and positioned him against her. Slowly, she sank back down and he felt himself getting lost slowly inside her. Her body sucked him in. He lifted his lips off hers and threw his head back, gritting his teeth so he could exercise some control and not slam his hips up to bury himself.

Slowly, she moved her hips, sending bursts of electricity from his pelvis to his brain.

"Blair, rubber," he gasped.

She jerked up, then tightened her arms around her shoulders. Her tongue dipped in his ear. "I don't want to stop."

His hips followed her movements. Chuck watched idly as half the water spilled out of the tub. "Okay," he agreed, grasping her hips. "I'll pull out."

"Good," she gasped. "Good idea." Blair threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut.

He pushed inside, over and over, losing himself in her body. She threw her head back. He felt her hair graze his thighs. His fingers tangled in her hair. His head dipped and he buried his nose in the halo between her breasts. He pushed inside her again, and felt her muscles clamping him like a vise. He felt himself nearing the edge.

"Blair, I have to—"

She cried out, tightened her legs around him. Chuck struggled to pull out, felt the intense gripping sensation on him. She was so slick, so tight. She came down from her climax and draped her entire body limply over him. Chuck felt the change in the angle of his body in hers. He set his jaw and held himself in.

Her brown hair was a wet curtain over his chest. He buried his fingers there.

His hand was on the small of her back. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I love you, Blair," he told her. And then, buried deep inside her, he let himself go over and over and over until he was completely drained.

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **With the Nate and Blair (and really rather Chair) oneshot (**All the World Says It's Winter**) out, I am now ready to sit and write new parts of my two current fics. Hope you enjoy.

**Part 10**

It was endearing how he thought she would go insane over a busy bridge full of jewelry shops. Blair raised her eyebrows when he stopped at the start of the strip. He pointed to the first shop on the left. "I know you'd want to start there." He then pointed to the gelato shop on the opposite side of the walkway. "But I was thinking of something cold first."

She was halfway to the shop when she realized she had left him behind. She looked back at him, and held out her hand. "Aren't you coming?"

He looked adorable in his hat and his shorts. Her husband—Chuck, her husband!—always did look delightful in his vacation wear. She could not appreciate them in the Hamptons because she had been so angry at him.

"Really, Blair?" he prompted. "You'd really rather go there than enjoy a nice cup of gelato with me?"

Blair glanced at the shop Chuck wanted to head to. "There are ice cream shops in New York."

"Don't let them hear you. Gelatos are far better than ice cream."

To his surprise, she jogged back towards him and raised herself on the tips of her toes. She dropped a kiss on his lips. "Buy me a scoop." And then just as quickly, she turned around and ran back towards the jewelers.

He returned to her with a scoop for himself and another for her. He entered the shop and handed her the gelato. She took it from him and licked the top. She giggled at the intensity in his eyes, then reached up a finger to wipe some cream from his upper lip. Her tongue darted out to lick at the edges of the scoop, where the gelato had softened. "You look like you're ready to buy me the whole shop."

He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Keep licking it like that and I'll buy you the whole damn bridge."

God, it felt good to be in love. She parted her lips and ate more of the gelato until her inner mouth was coated with the cold cream. Other tourists walked around them, giving them distance as they stood looking at each other. He took her hand and pulled her out of the small shop, and they found themselves standing in the middle of the bridge.

A set of yellow and white gold jewelry encrusted by precious stones caught his eye from the window display of one of the shops.

"That design is called butterfly," she told him, in a teasing voice. His butterflies happened so long ago. She doubted either of them ever equated those butterflies to love.

He grabbed her hand, then asked, "You want it?"

She shook her head. Someday he would learn that gifts did not necessarily need to accompany love. She only had half a year to make him realize it, so that he could hopefully have grown in that part of his life before she had to leave. "I'm still enjoying the necklace you gave me last year." She held her hand up, showed him the diamond engagement ring and the simple wedding band that graced her fingers. "And I just got two new rings this week. Yearly diamonds." And the concept made her sad. "We can make a tradition of it." Traditions, she thought, were wonderful to think of but would die before it even carried forward.

"Pity." Her eyes widened when he took a small box from his pockets and displayed the simple studs lying on their dark velvet bed. "Because I brought you something from home and I couldn't wait til next year."

"Oh!" she gasped. Blair reached for the earrings. She held up her hand, noticed how much the diamond cut looked like the one on her engagement ring.

"I had the stones cut to be precisely like my mom's ring."

Her eyes widened. She stared down at her engagement ring, remembered what he said in his mock proposal. "Your mom's."

He nodded. "There's only one ring for the women Bass men love," he told her.

"You've got such a silver tongue," she said. She grasped the front of his shirt and drew him down for a kiss. He tasted of chocolate and his mouth was so deliciously cold that he tasted like a vacation.

He must have thought the same, because when he lifted his mouth from hers, he told her, "It's like honeymoon in your mouth, Mrs Bass."

He looked rather proud of himself when they finished their excursion to Ponte Vecchio with no purchases in hand. Blair looked down at their entwined fingers as they walked through the streets of Florence. She tightened her hand around his. It was scary to be this ecstatic. Sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking, she would see a glimpse of something odd in his eyes.

He was not happy. In fact, he looked downright stressed out.

"Let's go to the Duomo," she suggested.

"Weren't we going to the Duomo after we go grape-picking in Chianti?"

His nonexistent itinerary, she remembered. She stifled a grin. "We're almost there. I can hear the bell. They're about to start the mass."

She picked up her speed, but he stopped in his tracks. "I wanted to go when there wasn't mass being held."

She walked over to him. "What better experience is there of the Duomo than attending an actual mass there?"

Chuck cursed. Her eyes widened. He muttered an apology. "I just realized the moment I said I love you, I lost all upcoming arguments."

Which just meant he was going to come. Blair dragged him along with her until they stood outside the Santa Maria del Fiore. The closer they got, the tighter his hand on hers became. The Church was surrounded by people that they could not see the steps. Chuck looked up at the large building and she looked up as well at the green, pink and marble façade.

"You want a house like that?" he said lightly.

Blair pressed close to his side. The last time he had been in a place half as ominous, half as conservative, half as traditional, was the day he buried his father. "Are you okay?"

"Sure," he rasped.

Blair made her way towards the steps, all the while grasping his hand as he reluctantly followed. She found two seats together at the back pew.

She did not understand the words of the service, but Blair looked up at the domed ceiling, the large statues and the marble angels. It was breathtaking, so much like everything she had read about the place. She was about to call Chuck's attention to the frescoes. When she turned to him, her husband sat with his head hung low, his forehead furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut.

She leaned over to him and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

Though they barely understood, Blair recognized the moment half the congregation stood. Chuck had looked up with his eyes still red. Neither of them was religious, but they were here and this was the first time she had been this satisfied with who she was. Maybe it was Italy; mostly it was because of him.

For that she was grateful. Enough to do something simple and uncharacteristic for once.

"I'm going to take communion," she told him. "Chuck, I think you should too."

He loved her. She told herself that when he snapped at her, "For the experience? No, thanks."

Blair stiffly pushed her handbag to him. She walked away from him, fought the urge to turn around and hug him. She should get used to this. This would not be the last time he would push her away. He could not help it. In the future he would push her away again and her mission was to leave before it happened.

Her heart had been broken far too many times to wait this out.

This is what she didn't want to happen. Having love in play would make it so much more difficult. Difficult, but not impossible.

She looked back at their pew. And he was gone.

~o~o~o~o~o~

He took the bag and set his jaw, watched as she walked away from him and fell in line. Watching her walk away was scary, and he almost stood up and stumbled towards her to apologize. Instead, he kept his eyes trained to the back of her head.

Prayed that after today he would never see her walking away from him like that.

Chuck rose from his seat to follow her. If a communion made her happy, then he would take communion. Sinking deep into depression over his father's loss was not going to help either of them. Bart Bass was good and buried. He rose to follow her. On the way, he felt her bag vibrate. Chuck pulled the phone out of her bag and glanced down at the caller ID.

Yale.

Her dream. She would be so disappointed if she missed it, and the least he could do was take a message. Maybe they would tell her that she made it in, and their initial rejection was a mistake. They realized the error, because it was definitely an error not to want Blair Waldorf when you can have her.

He walked to the small corridor away from the service, then raised the phone to his ear. "Hello."

The voice on the other line sounded a little confused. "I'd like to speak with Ms Waldorf, please."

"This is her phone. She's unavailable at the moment, but I can take a message." He cleared his throat. "And it's Mrs Bass now."

"Oh, well. That does make sense," said the man on the other end of the line. "We are finalizing our roster and we wanted to confirm her status."

"I'm sorry. What does that mean? What can I tell her for you?"

"Mr Bass, is it?" When Chuck confirmed his identity, the Yale caller told him, "I'm calling because we were confirmed about Ms Waldorf's—Mrs Bass' decision to refuse our acceptance. We had thought she wanted very much to enroll here. We received her request to postpone her admission and were thrown for a loop. Now it makes sense."

"Wait. Postpone? She was accepted?"

"Yes. And we received her request to push back her admission three days ago."

The day he proposed. Chuck hung up the phone and made his way back to the pews. He saw her standing by their seat looking around for him. He strode back towards where she stood. When she spotted him, she brightened. Chuck grinned and grabbed her face with both of his hands. He gave her an openmouthed kiss. Her hands looped around his neck as she met his kiss.

"I thought you left," she gasped.

He shook his head, laughing softly and then kissing her again. Around them he heard the scandalized gasps at the public display, right when the congregation was solemnly singing. "We're newlyweds," he told the old lady watching them with displeasure, holding up his finger to show his shiny new wedding band. He had never been prouder of that ring than right at that moment. He buried his lips in the crook of her neck.

His English seemed to have been translated. Coupled with the glinting rings on their fingers, the conservative congregation murmured consent at the overly affectionate show.

He pulled her towards one of the large marble pillars so they could enjoy a little bit of privacy. She kept her voice low, but her whisper still echoed, "What is with you?"

He pulled her towards him by the waist. Chuck laid his forehead on hers. "I think I just fell for you even harder," he confessed.

"Because I went to have communion?" she said lightly, confused, but trying for some humor. "I should convert."

He placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "You and I really need to have a talk."

Blair licked her lips. She took her bag from him and saw the glow of her phone as it locked automatically. She picked it up and looked at the call log. Her eyes lifted to him. "You know about Yale."

The noise in the Church grew. He glanced up and realized that the service had concluded. "I know about Yale." She looked away. Gently, he took her chin with his fingers and turned her face to him. Chuck laid his lips on hers. "And I'm more in love with you than I was when I made up that ridiculous story to get you to marry me."

She pulled away, looked up at him in confusion. "Wha—"

"I'm not going to lose the company, Blair," he admitted.

Behind them, people lined up for the confessional.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **Cheers, my friends! Let me know what you think.

**Part 11**

Her eyes narrowed, her displeasure evident. "You lied to me."

Chuck's excitement waned. His hand fell from her chin. "I didn't—"

She stepped backwards. "Lying again, Chuck?"

"Look," he said urgently, stepping forward to close the gap she created between them, "I only did it because I wanted you back."

She did not seem to hear. She forged on with the same tone she had before. "You mean to tell me that I gave up Yale for a lie?"

"Blair." He took her by her arms, then pulled her forward. "I wanted to be with you."

She squirmed out of his arms and held up her hands to ward him off. "This is so typical!" she cried. "You only think of yourself. You're never going to grow up and not be selfish for once." Blair raised her phone and lifted it to her ear. She turned her back on Chuck.

Chuck strained to listen, but she ignored him completely and kept her voice low. She strode over far from the line to the confessional. Chuck followed. She whirled back towards him, her eyes flashing.

"I can't go anymore! They gave my spot to someone else."

He released a sigh of relief. She was right. He was selfish. He was selfish and vain and thought only of himself, because learning that she no longer had a spot in Yale just relieved him. At least she wouldn't have to go off to college with things so unsettled between them.

He shook his head. "You have to understand, Blair. I didn't do it just to lie to you."

She slipped the phone inside her bag. "Then why?"

He cupped her cheek, then smiled down at her, urging her with his eyes to believe him. "I love you, and I'm ready for us, for everything that can happen between us."

"So you're ready," she parroted back.

He nodded. "Completely."

"Well congratulations," she bit out coldly. "When you weren't ready, I had to put my life on hold for you. Now you're ready and I should do it again?"

He searched for something to say, something to convince her that it wasn't as evil as she probably thought. He loved her. He had told her that, and she believed him. Why couldn't she believe this was all about that love?

Her hand rose to cover her belly. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God!" she gasped.

He frowned, then read the suspicion in her eyes. He felt sick to his stomach, then shook his head. "No," he said.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Did you?"

"No," he insisted.

"I don't believe you," she whispered.

"I wouldn't do that, Blair."

Clearly, she remembered their night in the tub. He remembered it so clearly, when he slammed inside her so deep and released inside her. It was unplanned, but so right he never thought much of it afterwards. Now, her brain worked overtime, and she simply could not go on believing what she seemed to. "So that's how you were going to make me stay?" she demanded. "You knew I'd find out about your lie the moment we went back to New York and Bass Industries still treats you like the ridiculously spoiled little prince that you are."

The accusation hurt him. It was a punch in the gut the way she could so easily think he was capable of intentionally trying to get her pregnant, just to escape the consequences of his lie.

"I didn't do it on purpose, Blair," he said.

She shook her head. She quickly brushed her fingers over her eyes. "How can I believe you now?" Chuck watched in horror as she started pulling off her rings from her fingers—his mother's ring, her wedding band. She grabbed his wrist and placed the rings in his hand. "I don't want these anymore."

Chuck watched as she hurried out of the Duomo. Within minutes, he was racing after her. He ran out into the street but did not find her anywhere. He wandered the streets, looking for her. When he could not find her, he returned to Excelsior, hoping against hope that he would find her pissed off inside their hotel room. He would even welcome it if she started throwing stuff at him.

The hotel room was empty. Chuck hurried to the safe and punched in the code, then checked the contents. He heaved another sigh of relief when he found both of their passports there. At least she was still in the country.

His phone rang, and he quickly picked it up. When he saw her name on the caller id, he answered the phone immediately.

"Mrs Bass," he said softly. His hand closed over the rings. He wanted to see her. He needed to slip those rings on her fingers again. It was a complete waste not to be displayed on her hand.

"Chuck," she said. He closed his eyes upon hearing her voice.

"Are you okay? Where are you? Let me pick you up."

"No need," she told him. "I have a favor to ask you."

"Anything."

"I need you out of the hotel room," she said quietly. "I'm coming back to pick up my passport."

His chest tightened. "Let's talk, Blair. Don't just leave."

"There's nothing to talk about," she told him. "Just make sure you're not going to be there."

He waited in the darkness, inside the bedroom. The hotel room door opened and she padded inside. Chuck straightened, and watched as her silhouette extended as she reached for the light switch. She jumped in surprise when she saw him standing in the corner.

"You can't even do me a simple favor," she said. Blair walked into the room and proceeded to the safe. With jerky movements she pushed the code and tried to open the safe. It did not open. She huffed in frustration. She tried again, but the safe did not open. She glared at him. "Did you change the code?" she demanded.

Chuck shook his head. He moved behind her and heard her suck in her breath at his proximity. He pushed the code in and the safe was unlocked. She reached for her passport, but he took it in his hand before she could.

Pressed up behind her, Chuck found it easy to lean down and press a kiss on her shoulder. "Don't leave. Not like this," he pleaded.

Blair took her passport from his hand. "Divorce papers will be in the mail."

It was scary to hear the words. His arms wrapped around her and tightened. His lips moved to the nape of her neck.

"Chuck, let go."

"I'll let you leave if you don't feel anything for me anymore."

"I hate you so much for doing this. I'm not Nate, or Dan, or Serena, or anyone else in your life, Chuck," she said bitterly. "You don't get to manipulate me."

"You're not anyone of them," he agreed, his voice pleading. "You're my wife."

She squirmed in his arms, and it only served to make him tighten his embrace. "Not for long," she said.

His mouth opened over the skin of her neck, and his kissed moved to the back of her ear. His tongue darted to swirl around her earlobe. "Leave if you don't love me anymore."

He felt her jerky breath as he held onto her. Her hands grasped his arms. Her fingers dug into his skin. "That's got nothing to do with it," she replied. "You lied to me."

He buried his nose in her hair. "Do you love me?" He felt hot tears falling on his arm. He answered his own question. "Mrs Bass," he said, not dropping the name which had turned to an endearment, earning a shudder from her, "I think you do."

He had relaxed his arms around her, and she finally pulled away from him. She picked up her handcarry bag and walked out of the bedroom.

"Blair, please."

She stopped at the door, then turned to meet his eyes. "I've got too much self-respect to stay with you after this."

He stalked towards her, pulled her bag from her hand and tossed it to the couch. "I'm trying to be better for you!"

"You're a liar. If I'm pregnant because of your schem—"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, and she stumbled right into his arms. His mouth delved down to capture her lips and to cut off her statement. Her lips parted of their own volition, and she rose on her tiptoes to surrender to his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You love me," he said, raising his lips from her, looking down at her closed eyes. Chuck saw the tear tracks on her cheeks. He pressed kisses on her face, tasting the salt of her tears on hips lips. He breathed on her face, "And I did what I had to do to get you back. I don't care what I did. The end justifies the means."

She opened her eyes, looked at him sadly. "How utterly Machiavellian of you."

His lips curved. "We _are _in Italy."

She licked her lips, then slowly pulled away from him. She walked over to the couch and picked up her bag. She met his eyes, saw his confusion. She gave him a small, sad smile. "I deserve better."

She closed the door gently behind her, but even so, he flinched when it clicked shut. Chuck stood frozen in the living room staring at the closed door. The small LED on the knob blinked red.

A thousand curses erupted in his head.

She admitted she loved him, practically made love to his mouth just moments ago. And then she left. Just like that, she left. It made no sense, and for a split second he felt inexplicably angry with her.

Chuck stalked back to the bedroom and picked up his phone. He called Aeroporto di Firenze, checked the flight schedule, then fell back on the bed and glared at the clock on the wall. He urged time to stop, so that at least, even in his misery, she would not be able to leave, and they would be in the same continent.

He closed his eyes, then took a deep breath. He cursed. Chuck rolled out of bed and grabbed his coat. He checked his watch and strode towards the door.

"Get me a ride to the airport now," he demanded from the hotel concierge.

The man looked up in surprise. Chuck understood. The entire time he was staying over with Blair, he had been lighthearted and pleasant, completely charming without the smarm he often injected in his attitude when he was still a bachelor. Now, he had no time to be cheery. His wife was leaving him.

He was Chuck Bass.

No one left him unless he said so. Within fifteen minutes, he was seated in the comfortable car and speeding towards the airport.

He arrived at the airport, then raced towards the departure area. He breathed harshly, then picked up the speed of his stride. Chuck wandered through the waiting area for the flights to New York, but did not find her there. He walked to the attendant at the check in booth.

"I need to know if my wife has checked in."

The attendant smiled up at him. "I'm sorry, sir. I cannot provide that information to you, for security purposes."

"I just need to know if she's here."

The woman maintained her smile, then shook her head. Chuck growled in frustration, then roamed the airport searching for her. About an hour later, Chuck felt a hand on his arm. He turned and saw a pair of security personnel. He narrowed his eyes.

"Can we help you, sir?"

He probably looked like some deranged criminal searching and wandering around the airport for the better part of the hour. "I'm looking for my wife."

"Do you have a passport?"

"It's in the hotel," he answered.

"Go on, sir. No flight, no loitering around."

Chuck found himself escorted out politely. He breathed harshly as he made his way back to Excelsior. He dragged his feet on his way back to his hotel room. Chuck entered the hotel room and took off his coat, let it fall to the floor as he walked in. He kicked off his shoes and walked over to the fridge. He picked up four small bottles of whatever alcohol was available. He placed the bottles on the counter and unscrewed the cap of one. He gulped down the small scotch.

"Where have you been?" came the sharp demand.

Chuck whirled and caused the empty bottle to topple and roll off the counter. He took in her presence as she appeared from the bedroom. "Blair…"

Her eyes were splotchy and red, and it looked like she had been crying. "Where did you go?" she said softly now.

Chuck stepped forward, and she stepped backward. He shook his head. "Looking for you. I couldn't just let you go. Where were you?" he turned the question back at her.

She sniffled. "I couldn't just go."

This time, when he stepped towards her, she stayed put. He walked over to her and then picked up her hand and placed fervent kisses on her fingers. "I'm so sorry."

She opened her mouth, but only a sob came out. Blair threw her arms around his neck. "You're such a liar and I hate it."

His arms wrapped around her. "I know I am," he agreed. "I'm really sorry for that." Chuck pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Don't lie to me again," she sniffled. "Because I'm completely stubborn and I won't even listen to myself when I say to stop loving you."

"I've never been so happy that you're stubborn," he murmured into her hair. She pulled him with her towards the bed and they fell onto the bed together. He met her teary eyes, and he requested, "Please stop crying."

"Stop making me cry," she parried.

"Okay." He raised her hand to his lips. "So will you stay married to me?" He held his breath as she kept silent. And then, when he thought he had run out of air, she nodded. He released his breath and slid his hand into his pocket, then brought the rings out and placed them back on her fingers. "You're never going to have a reason to take them off. Ever again."

She lifted her hand and looked at the rings, then placed her palm over his heart. She squirmed closer to him, then kissed his chin. "Don't make me regret this."

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Part 12**

"Mine."

He looked at her like she said something crazy. "Mine, Blair," he insisted.

Blair rolled her eyes. "What is wrong with going to my mom's first?"

"Eleanor looks at me funny," he said. "I'm bothered."

"Lily found out about us getting married before my mom did!"

"Your mom found out about our engagement before Lily did," Chuck pointed out. He sighed. "Let's play it fair," he suggested.

"What do you propose?" she demanded.

"Neither."

"Right," she huffed. "We'll just wander around Manhattan just because neither one of us wants to give in."

Chuck's lips curved. "You do remember that we have our own place," he reminded her. "We don't have to go to the other person's family first."

Blair turned to look at him, then flushed. "We do."

"We haven't really gotten to use our bed."

"No, we haven't," she agreed.

Chuck called the address to the driver, and then pulled Blair towards him. "How are my negotiation skills now, Mrs Bass?"

Blair chuckled, and let her body fall on him. She pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You're a master."

He leaned forward and captured her lips for a deeper kiss. His hands slid down to her waist, then moved to her ass. He felt her smile against his mouth. "Mrs Bass, I love—"

"Yes?" she murmured without releasing the kiss.

"Your ass," he finished.

Blair pulled away and growled down at him. Chuck grinned, then shook his head. "Kidding!"

She frowned, then moved to sit back on the leather.

"Hey!" Chuck complained, then tried to gather her up in his arms again. Blair elbowed him in the gut. "I was trying to keep the mood light."

"Well go home by yourself. Let's see if you're still laughing then."

Blair crossed her arms over her chest. Chuck slid closer to her in the seat, and she slid further. Chuck slid sideways and she did the same until the side of the ass he loved hit the limo door and she could not longer move farther. Finally, he was pressed up to her side, and Chuck leaned towards her and kissed her earlobe.

"I was joking," he said softly.

"It wasn't funny."

He kissed the crook of her neck, making her shiver. His tongue darted out and traced a wet figure on her collarbone. "I love you," he said.

At that, so easily, and most likely because it was still technically their honeymoon, Blair deflated and smiled. The tension released from her body, and she turned her head to meet Chuck's kiss. "You're horrible," she grumbled.

"I know."

"I love you too," she said softly. Chuck grinned, and then trailed a line of kisses to the hollow of her neck. Blair threw her head back and buried her fingers in his hair. She felt Chuck's fingers move to the front of her blouse. In response, she placed on one hand on the buckle of his belt and started pulling.

"You are so hot."

"So are you," she gasped when he pulled her bra down to free her breasts.

Blair sat up and frantically unzipped his pants.

"Wait up. I'm not going anywhere."

In a flurry of dark hair and loosely hanging shirt, Blair straddled Chuck's lap. She bit her lip as she breathed slowly in and out. Chuck managed to free himself from his boxers and grasp himself. Blair knelt above him and positioned herself, then slowly edged herself down. She shut her eyes tightly as her trembling body lowered herself.

The head teased her lower lips, and she let out a soft cry. Blair shivered. She felt herself open to swallow him. Chuck placed one hand to cover her abdomen as he lifted his hips to meet her.

Chuck reached for the tears on her cheeks, then stopped while halfway inside her. Blair's eyes opened and she looked down at him through the haze of her vision.

"Does it hurt?" he choked. She shook her head, opened her mouth to reassure him, but let out a sob instead. Chuck cursed and started to pull out, but Blair grasped his shoulders and firmly slammed herself down on him. Her forehead fell on his shoulder. Chuck held his breath, keeping his body still even with the urge to pump inside her. She was tight, hot around him. "Blair," he prompted.

She sniffled against his shirt and kept her arms around his shoulders.

"Blair, you're making me nervous."

She sighed. Slowly, even with her head on his shoulder, she raised her hips until he was almost completely out, then slowly rolled her hips down to engulf him again. Once more, she lifted her hips and lowered again. She pumped over him in measured motions.

And then, a lifetime later, she raised her head and looked down on him as she raised herself, met his lips in an openmouthed kiss whenever she sank on him.

Sweat blossomed on the back of her neck and across her shoulders. He thrust into her deep, and she felt her inner thighs strain with the effort of keeping the calculated rhythm. When he pumped faster, she gripped more tightly so he would not dislodge her.

He released, half inside her and half outside. Blair lifted herself up just when his seed erupted and she felt part of him trickle out of her.

"I should really be on the pill now," she gasped.

"I have condoms," he told her.

She collapsed onto his chest. Blair looked up at him and arched her eyebrow. "Like you ever remember to put it on."

"You initiated!" he exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" she shrieked.

Chuck glared at her, and she met the glare with one of her own. Keeping the frigid look on him, she moved off of him and onto the seat. Moments later, he chuckled. "You look like you want to rip my throat out."

"And feed it your dog," she agreed.

"I don't have a dog."

"I'll get you one."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "I don't want a dog."

Blair shook her head. Chuck gave an exasperated sigh, then tugged at her hand, making her fall against him in the seat. She gave a contented murmur and burrowed deep beside him. He dropped a kiss in her hair. His hand crept to her thigh, and managed to slide to her soreness. Blair held her breath.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm sure," she breathed. She squirmed when he massaged gently. "Chuck, don't."

His hand stilled. "Then why were you crying?"

Blair shrugged. "I just remembered something," she offered.

"What is it?" The limo slowed, and Chuck glanced out and saw their street.

"Do you remember what it was like?" she asked softly. "Here?"

When it dawned on him what she was talking about, his confusion cleared. He nodded his head. "I remember all those times."

"That's what made me cry."

He gave her a lopsided grin, but she could see the defeat in his eyes. "That bad?"

She shook her head. Blair closed her hand over his and saw the diamond on her finger. "That amazing," she corrected him.

The limo slowed, and Chuck looked out the window and noticed the crowd of men with their cameras waiting outside. He straightened in his seat. "What is this?" he muttered. When he spotted a reporter's ID hanging around the neck of him, and saw the high-powered cameras on most, he turned to Blair. "Stay here."

Chuck got off the limo and kept himself from yelling when he saw Blair getting off the other side of the limo. Instead of picking another fight with his wife in full view of the paparazzi, he walked over to her and made sure to keep his grip around her hand.

"Chuck!" one of them called out to him. Chuck noticed the guy as one who had taken a picture of him and a stewardess one drunken night. The picture was small news, but did make its way to the Society page one slow news day. His father had called him out on it. It had been a school night.

His father had sued the publication and won. Chuck had been a minor with his picture plastered on the newspaper.

The Bass win against the Chronicle became more of a headliner on one of the business pages. Big Bad Bart.

And Chuck had never forgotten the journalist who gave them that infamy. "Julian, my man," he greeted calmly. "No celebrity sightings tonight?"

"Naw, man," Julian replied. "Olsen twins partying four blocks away. Justin's in the hotel on Fifth. And I think some of the cast members of SNL are having a beer down the corner."

Chuck pulled Blair closer when the legitimate reporters and the paparazzi squeezed in and she stumbled forward. He gritted his teeth. "Then why aren't you people over there? You're not waiting for me, are you?"

"Sure, Chuck," another man called out. "Been waiting for you for four days!"

"Where were you?"

Chuck continued walking and tried to clear a path for Blair as they proceeded to their building. The guards were ineffective in making them step away.

"Is it true that you got hitched?"

It was impossible that they did not know. "Don't you read UES blogs?"

"So honeymoon with the missus?" one of them asked.

"What's it to you?" Chuck demanded.

"Hey Blair!"

Blair turned, and a lightning flash of light blinded her. She raised her arm too late and wavered where she stood. She closed her eyes and pressed her palm against her eyes. Chuck cursed and moved towards the man. Blair kept her hand on his arm. Chuck pushed her behind him, and exploded, "What the fuck are you doing, man?"

"Chuck, let it go. It's his job."

Chuck shook his head, then ushered Blair towards the door.

One of them called out, "Just wanted to get a shot of the happy couple coming back from honeymoon in Italy right while Bass Industries posted record losses and let go of two thousand employees."

"Bass never lost that much when your father was CEO."

"Were you even aware, Chuck? Did they keep it from you?"

"Is that why it took you four whole days since the massive layoff before you came home?"

Chuck stood stunned, with his back to them. Blair noticed that he had frozen there, and she looked behind her and saw what thankfully was hidden to the photographers. She turned around and placed a hand on his chest. When he did not move, she stepped around him and faced the paparazzi. "Obviously, Mr Bass knows about everything happening to his company," Blair declared. "In this economy, not even the Fortune 40 companies can escape repercussions. Suffice it to say that he is handling the situation hands on and will keep you posted when there are updates to share with the public."

"So Mr Bass," one of the reporters asked, and Chuck straightened when they started referring to them as that instead of the informal way they used his nickname earlier, "has not been on a honeymoon like earlier reported?"

"Blair—" She glared. "Mrs Bass," the reported corrected, "are you saying that earlier reports of you two gallivanting around Italy are false?"

"Any of you can easily pull up our flight records and find out that were there," Blair answered. "Mr Bass had a business meeting. We were looking to expand some of the real estate holdings to Europe." And then, she gave them all a big smile. "If you'll excuse us. We're very tired from our trip."

Blair entwined her fingers with his and pulled him with her into the building, then to the elevator. Chuck collapsed onto the wall and stared at her, his nostrils flaring. Blair saw this and held up her hands. "I'm sorry. I know you said—"

In the space of two seconds, he was on her, grabbing her upper arms and holding her against him, exploring her mouth. Blair wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on the tips of her toes. "You were brilliant," he breathed.

"I thought you needed to catch your breath."

"Thank you," he said.

"We're a team," she assured him. "I have your back."

The elevator doors opened, and they walked into their penthouse apartment. Blair kicked off her shoes and padded across the floor barefoot. She fell back on the couch, and watched him push numbers into his phone. She smiled as she watched him pace.

"Why wasn't I informed?" he demanded into the phone. "Oh she didn't want to interrupt my honeymoon?" Chuck said sarcastically. "She should have thought of that when she let me walk into an ambush of reporters without knowing anything about what's going on." Some pause. "Get someone to bring those numbers to me at home. Now."

Chuck sighed, then tossed the phone onto the coffeetable. He looked at his wife, lying on the couch.

"Sorry about the temper."

She shrugged. "I'd say you had a reason to be pissed off."

"I shouldn't bring it home," he pointed out.

Blair rolled her eyes. "That's stupid. Who else are you going to talk about it with?" She extended her hand. Chuck walked over to her and closed his around it, then settled beside her to sit down. "I'm not just a wife, Chuck. We're teammates. Bring the office crap here so you don't bring it to anyone else who listens."

He nodded, then raises her hand to kiss her knuckles. Blair tugged at her hand to bring his lips down to her level. "I'm not a grandmother yet. Feel free to kiss elsewhere," she said playfully.

Chuck closed his eyes for the kiss. "The company's in the crapper," he said in defeat.

"Damn," Blair murmured. "Didn't I marry you for your money?"

He chuckled. "No, Mrs Bass. You married me because you felt sorry for me."

"Oh that's right," she said with reflection. "Well at least now there's a reason to be." She took on a somber expression when she tightened her hands on his. "You're going to fix the problem, Chuck. I know you can do it."

"You'll help me?"

"I helped you with your business plan for Victrola," she reminded him. "How much more difficult can the business plan for Bass Industries be?" she said, lightening the mood.

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: **lol. I find it amusing that I have written something like this. Oh well…

**Part 13**

It was, funnily enough, more difficult than anything she ever encountered in her life. And she was good—great--excellent in Math. She even did a feasibility study on a couture headband business for her Economics class. She got an A+ on it too. When Chuck called her up to ask for her help in creating a business plan for Victrola, she had thrown herself at the project and was smugly satisfied when Chuck reported that Bart finally went for it.

Presented with the dilemma of saving Bass Industries from the nosedive it was taking now, Blair was teetering on the edge, nearly pulling her hair out.

Despite his amorous kiss in the elevator, the moment that they hit the bed, they were asleep. Chuck fought against his drowsiness, she knew, because he had woken her tossing and struggling to get up. However, jet lag was still more stubborn than he was, and Chuck ended up snoring her back to sleep within ten minutes. Idly, she thought, as she drifted back to her dreams, how wonderful it was to fall asleep with him holding her. It was the first time they had fallen asleep wrapped in each other, with the exemption of sex afterglow, because that did not really count.

She woke up when it was still dark out. Finding herself alone in the bed, Blair rose and padded barefoot across the apartment and found Chuck seated in the dining room with a bowl of cereal beside him, leafing through binders. About four more thick ones were on the table, along with a stack of CDs. He glanced up at her. "Sleep well?"

She nodded, then wordlessly walked to the refrigerator and checked for anything that she could heat up. She saw a plastic contained and peered inside. Satisfied, she popped it into the microwave and pushed the button for two minutes. While she waited, she picked up one of the binders and leafed through it.

The microwave beeped, and she took the contained out and placed the contents on a plate. Blair picked up a knife and a fork. She cut into the breaded meat and saw cheese ooze out. It looked familiar, until she realized it was cordon bleu. Blair picked up the bowl of cereal in front of Chuck and replaced it with the steaming dish.

"What is that?" Chuck asked.

She shrugged. "Something better than cereal," she answered. "At least I would hope it is. You need protein to understand this."

Chuck's furrowed brows smoothened and he laid down the binder, then looked up at her. "Is my wife serving me food? Are you becoming a homemaker, Mrs Bass?" He reached out to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her down.

She fell to his lap and chuckled. "Are you taking a break, Mr Bass?" she asked pointedly, wriggling her bottom against his lap.

Chuck's eyes narrowed, and he growled playfully. "Don't tempt me."

"What if I want to?" she returned teasingly.

Chuck pushed the binders to the side, and placed his hands on her hips. He heaved her up and sat her on the dining table. Blair squealed. "How many more millions can we lose anyway?" he muttered.

Blair gave him a fat grin, then placed her hands on his belt, deftly undoing it. "Chuck," she gasped as he pulled her panties down.

He smirked down at her, then held up a foil packet up to hold up between them.

"Oh!" Blair gushed. "You're becoming very responsible, Mr Bass. Is that what being a CEO does?"

Chuck shook his head, laughing off her teasing remark. He tore the packet with his teeth. Blair reached up and took the condom from his hands and fitted it over him. Her bare ass slid back against the wood of the table when he slid smoothly inside her.

"We're going to eat here!" she belatedly realized after he gave one pump.

Chuck fell over her body, his hips moving steadily to Blair's rhythmic gasps. "I'll get maids to clean it," he swore.

"No, no, no," Blair insisted. "I wouldn't be able to eat here ever again."

"I can't stop now," he cried in disbelief.

Blair placed a hand on his cheek. "Please," she whispered. "Bedroom. Bathroom. Living room," she suggested.

Chuck growled, then slid his hands down her ass. Blair took the cue and wrapped her arms tightly around his back and laid her cheek against his shoulder. She wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles on the small of his back. He lifted her up off the dining room table and her weight hung on him.

"Living room," he said. "Closer."

"Okay." Blair gasped when he took one step away from the dining room table. She heard him curse under his breath, and was glad he felt it too. He walked, and she cried out with each step as the movement sent lightning through her temples. Her belly shivered and the muscles gripping him clenched.

"You wanted to move," he said.

Blair jerked her head against his shirt. He was still fully clothed, as was she. And she was going to climax halfway between their dining room and their living room, hanging from him, while he was walking. "Oh God!" she cried as she felt herself spasm uncontrollably, blinded by a brilliant light under her eyelids.

"Shit, Blair!" Chuck groaned in response. He gripped the doorframe leading to the living room and held tightly. She felt him, covered as he was, jerk inside her and let go. He leaned back against the doorframe and clenched his jaw. Blair clutched at him tightly.

When her senses returned, she saw him leaning back against the wall, not having made it past the threshold to the living room. Slowly, she lowered her legs from around him and he assisted her. Her knees trembled and she could barely stand, so she rested her entire body against him. She pressed up and peppered kisses across his jaw. Chuck slowly opened his eyes and looked down at her. He glanced down and grimaced, then carefully removed the condom.

He looked down at her heaving breasts under her blouse, and bent to kiss her neglected chest. Finally, Blair managed to straighten and she brushed her hands down her blouse, fluffed her hair up like nothing happened. Chuck placed a kiss on the moist crook of her neck. "You're incomparable," he told her.

Blair flushed, and watched as he vanished into the bathroom presumably to throw the condom away. She followed after him and waited until he finished peeing. When he went to wash his hands, she sat on the toilet bowl and peed herself.

"You're not going back to school, are you?"

Chuck sighed, then moved out of the way so that Blair could wash her hands too. He shook his head. "I know we made your dad think I would. I wanted to—"

Blair bent over the sink and splashed her face with water. She looked up at him with her dripping face. "I think dad would understand. I was even thinking about taking a leave from school."

Chuck frowned. "Why would you do that?"

"So I can help you figure out what we can do for the company," Blair pointed out.

Chuck stared at her. "You can graduate valedictorian."

She shrugged. "We're in this together."

"No."

At that, she was taken aback. "No?"

"I took Yale away. I can't ask you to do this too. Help me when you can. But as much as possible, I'll do it myself."

Blair sharply reached for her facial scrub, and noted to thank Serena later on for knowing what products she used. There was no way Chuck bought all the correct products for her. She rubbed it on her face angrily until her face grew red. Chuck grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.

He looked down at her, with the gritty mud on her face. "You're hurting yourself."

"You don't need me, do you?" she asked. "You have a team of lawyers; you have a board of trustees; you can hire advisers."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "I thought we establish how I can't live without you," he told her. "Italy, Blair?" he reminded her. "Just now. Right outside."

"You need me for those."

"Blair, I need you for much more than that. Hell, if you tell me to liquidate now and give all my stocks away I would." She blinked up at him, and she shook away the tears that gathered in her eyes. "I trust you more than all the lawyers and the board members put together."

The way he spoke, there was no way she could think he was lying.

"But I screwed up already with Yale. I'm not taking this away from you."

She grasped his hand. "But we're a team. And we're in the middle of a game. I can't just abandon you while you're working on this so I can go to high school."

He raised their entwined hands to his lips. "Tell you what. If you're up to it, go to Bass Industries directly after school. I'll set up a place for you and you can read through all the things I don't understand."

Her eyes sparkled at the proposal. "Are you hiring me, Mr Bass?"

"You'll be my private consultant. But I don't know if I can afford you," he said lightly, kissing her nose.

"I'll let you work it off in trade," she offered.

"What will you make me do?"

Blair sighed, then gave him a small smile. "I'll think of something." She looked down at the watch he still wore. It was almost five, almost time to get ready for school. She turned to fill the tub. Chuck pressed up behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. She reached behind her to bury her fingers in his hair. She smiled and murmured, "I love you."

"I love you more," he replied quietly.

"That's impossible," she said.

Blair relaxed when he pulled her blouse up over her head, and unzipped her skirt. She reached for the front clasp of her bra and tossed the undergarment to the sink. Blair climbed into the tub and watched him shed his clothes as well. She grinned up as he stepped in and sank into the water as well. She climbed on top of his and laid her head under his chin.

Bath time was a time to relax, she told herself as she closed her eyes.

A few hours later they were both running late. Despite her earlier disapproval of Chuck merely eating cereal, they ended up sharing a bowl of honey flakes and milk together. The two of them raced to the front door of the building and belatedly realized the chaos that they should have expected. Chuck and Blair burst through the door to a throng of reporters shouting questions at them and snapping pictures.

"Chuck!" someone yelled. "How does your first day of work feel like?"

"Haven't started really," Chuck answered as Blair climbed into the limo.

"Is that why the company is in shambles, do you think?" continued the man. "Because the CEO barely makes it into the office on time?"

Blair reached out a gloved hand and closed it around Chuck's. She tugged him in. "Just get in, Chuck."

"Mrs Bass," called out someone else. "Looking lovely in your uniform."

"Thank you," she replied sarcastically. "Now if you'll excuse us." To Chuck, she said, "Shut the door!"

They rested back in their seats just as the limo rolled. Blair sighed in relief, then turned to Chuck. "Chuck, I love you, but sometimes you can be dense. Just don't talk to them; get in the car and move."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "You're a snob," he pointed out.

"So are you!" she snapped. "Up until this whole CEO thing at least."

"Hey. My dad might have thought I never listened to his lectures, but I did. I'm the face of Bass Industries now. Like it or not, what I do and say will reflect on the company," Chuck told her. "By transitivity, anything you do will also be part of the company's image."

"The company's in the crapper."

"All the more reason to be appealing."

Blair looked at him uncertainly. "I don't think I can be appealing. I'm not a charming girl, if you didn't notice."

He chuckled, then leaned forward to kiss his wife on the lips. "You have the whole haughty princess thing going for you. Keep that. That should pander to the upper class customers of Bass. I've got the unruly playboy image to contend with, so I'm trying to be more flexible."

Blair's mouth opened under his, and she received Chuck's tongue by wrapping her own around it. She leaned back in her seat and lifted her feet up on the leather. Her legs moved to accommodate Chuck. Her sex throbbed for him. She turned her head and sucked in air. When she did, she saw them slowing outside the school.

"Miss Blair, we're here," the driver called.

Chuck groaned and dropped his forehead on her shoulder. She reached down and felt him hard and throbbing between them. "Oh Chuck, I'm sorry."

Chuck hissed at the sensation. He held her hand against him and then moved it up and down. Blair caught on quickly, and whispered in his ear. "Let me."

Chuck released her wrist and threw his head back when Blair continued moving her hand up and down over his pants.

"I love you," she said softly as her hand moved faster. "And when you go to work today, you will be so amazing." Her other hand moved to cup the sac and roll him in her palm. Her thumb flicked over the head. "You're going to fix everything, Chuck. I'm so proud of you."

He shuddered under her hands. Blair looked down at the darkening spot on his pants. She quickly leaned down and kissed his form over his pants.

"Go home and change first, okay?" she said. Chuck nodded as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled her to him and kissed her lips. "Now I have to go."

Blair opened the door to her side and stepped out of the limo. There were about four men holding cameras in their hands, several yards away from Constance. Blair thanked the arrogance of Constance Billard to have that order in place. She ignored the clicking cameras and the light flashes and she entered the school.

"Mrs Bass!"

Blair broke into a smile when she saw her best friend waving her over. She turned and saw the limo drive away. "Serena, did you pick out everything in my new bathroom?"

"What are you talking about?" Serena asked. "That was all Chuck. How is married life treating you?"

Blair clasped her hands together. "S, I have never been so exhausted in my life!" she exclaimed, much the same way, she thought, as she did when she was floating on air before Chuck abandoned her on the way to Tuscany. Only this time, she was sure, there was no way Chuck was leaving her. "Your stepbrother… is absolutely tireless."

"Ohhh eeww, no! Not that!"

Blair arched her eyebrow. "It's not like I can tell you about the bliss of being domestic, S. Of course it's going to be about my sex life."

"Then, um, no," Serena mumbled. "How was Italy?"

Blair grinned, a delicious, knowing grin. "Italy—" she sighed.

"Yeah, I don't want to know."

"Why not?"

tbc

AN: Give me feedback!

ETA I just read a review about the nice sex "but"... So I wanted to add... There IS a point to the sex scenes... I DO think about the plot, even in this story. But yeah... let me rest my head for a moment... ;) It will come.. have patience.


	14. Chapter 14

**Part 14**

Serena was speaking as they strolled out of the building. Blair looked up from her watch and asked, "What?"

The blonde gave her a knowing smirk, and repeated, "So how does it feel to be back in school?"

"It's fine," Blair said offhandedly. She craned her neck to see past the throng of students and out the gate. "Do you see the limo?"

"You are so completely distracted," Serena said laughingly. "So this is what marriage does to you?"

Blair shrugged and grinned. "I'm a newlywed. So sue me."

Serena shook her head, but with a delight she could barely hide, continued, "I've never seen you like this. It suits you."

Blair gave a nod. "Thank you. Now use your height and check if the limo's there."

"You want to go home already?" Serena said in disbelief. "I wanted us to hang out, B! Come on. Chuck's still in the office." She took her best friend's hand. "You and I can catch up."

Blair sighed and looked up at her best friend. It was tempting. The past week had been so full and surprising that she could think of no one else to spill details to. "I wish I could," Blair started, "but I told Chuck I'd stop by the office." And then she corrected herself, "Actually, I want to drop by the office."

Serena returned her smile and dangled her phone in front of Blair. "I can call him right now. We'll tell him you'll see him at home."

Before Blair could say no, she heard the titter of the student body. It was the first time she saw herself in a movie with Chuck Bass. It was surprisingly pleasant. She broke into a large grin when the crowd parted just as she looked up and revealed the black stretch limousine parked outside the gates, and her husband casually leaning against the back, his ankles crossed, his arms folded over each other.

"Oh look at that," Serena giggled.

It was needless for Serena to say it. In her mind, everything had fallen into the black and white of her movie dreams of Nate. Only this time, together with the movie ambience, her heart clenched in her chest the way it never did with her ex. If love made you breathless, Blair wondered how it was she still hadn't fainted because she was sure all the oxygen had gotten sucked out of the atmosphere. Blair slung her bag over her shoulder and then, shamelessly now, not minding that people would think her overzealous, she abandoned Serena and raced towards him. The moment she reached Chuck, she flung her arms around his neck and parted her lips under his.

"Mrs Bass, excited to see me?" he murmured when he finally released her.

Blair's lips still tingled from his kiss. She pressed against him and smiled up, crinkling her eyes, not minding that the corners would wrinkle with such obvious emotion. "You're excited to see me too, Mr Bass," she observed.

"Always," he answered, pulling her more tightly to him.

She heard the cameras from several yards away, and found the ever present photographers following them clicking merrily away. She looked up at Chuck and saw him squinting his eyes at people behind her, and knew her schoolmates were taking photos for Gossip Girl as well.

She decided to ignore the distractions. Technically, they were still in honeymoon, after all. They had only been away for a week. Everyone knew honeymoons were supposed to last a month.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd just send the limo so I can meet you at the office," she asked.

"I missed you," he reasoned.

The answer warmed her heart, and she wanted to squeal like the schoolgirl that she was. She kept her calm. Grace Kelly, she chanted to herself. Grace Kelly.

"Don't you have a lot of work to do?"

"Not at the expense of precious time with my wife," he answered. Chuck picked up her hand and brushed a kiss against her knuckles, making her blush at the thought of other people seeing it. "What do you say to an early dinner before Bass Industries makes slaves out of us?"

"I say 'absolutely!'"

He opened the door of the limo for her. Blair hesitated, then turned to look back at her best friend. "Oh, S!"

Serena waved away the apology on her lips. "Just go, you two," she advised. "Far be it for me to get in the way of your honeymoon." Laughter bubbled from Blair's lips. Serena cocked her head to the side and arched an eyebrow at her best friend. "Did I say something funny?"

Blair shook her head. Chuck grinned. "Just that you don't want to be anywhere between us these days."

"Chuck!" Blair cried in protest. Blair threw an apologetic look at Serena and then climbed into the limo, then pulled her husband inside.

When they drove away, Blair launched herself at her husband. Chuck gripped her by the waist and kissed her. She threw her head back. It was ridiculous the way the smile seemed stuck on her face. Chuck peppered kisses from her lips to the back of her ear, then groaned. Blair pulled away. "What?" she demanded.

Chuck released a disgusted breath. "I didn't bring protection."

Blair pursed her lips. "What makes you think we're going to need it? Assumptions, Chuck."

Chuck's eyes lowered pointedly to her breasts. Blair glanced down and saw her nipples starkly pushing up through her lace bra and white blouse. She flushed. "Well," she breathed, "I'm—"

He took her hand and pressed her palm against his hardness. "Don't worry. Me too."

"Ahh!" Blair groaned. "This is insane. Are we always going to be all over each other like this? We'll grow stupid and lonely, with no social life and no exposure to the outside world." She huffed. "I turned Serena down today. She wanted to hang out."

Chuck collapsed back on the limo seat. He rubbed his palm over his eyelids. "I haven't even finished reading the financial report they sent to my office." He opened his eyes. "This is just because it's still so new."

"Right," Blair agreed. "By next week, or the week after that, we'll be okay." She lay down on top of him and squirmed to find a better position. He winced, and she muttered an apology, then settled down. Chuck's hand moved in circles on her back. She raised herself up on one elbow. "Right?"

Chuck nodded. "Totally."

Blair dipped her finger in the hollow of his throat. "I'll get a prescription for my pills tomorrow."

It was like having a stalker, she thought. Technically, they were stalkers, she realized as she and Chuck got off the limo and made their way to the restaurant. Out there, in public, without the protection of Contance's guards and stiff policy against journalists getting close to their students, they found themselves once again fully exposed. Chuck held out his arm when one of the men got a little too close, and barred a reporter from shoving a mic towards Blair.

They entered the restaurant, where the photographers could not enter. Even then, the flashes coming from outside bothered enough customers that they looked up at the new arrivals.

"We'll need to get you a bodyguard."

"Yuck," Blair responded.

"The moment you married me, you became a minor celebrity," Chuck pointed out. "The day Bass posted record losses and cut two thousands jobs, we became even better news."

The hostess listed down the house specialties for the night. After they placed their orders, Blair turned back to her husband. "Don't bother calling any agency," she advised. "I'm not going to have a bodyguard."

He frowned. "This isn't a matter for debate, Blair."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just say 'Yes, Mrs Bass,'" she snapped. "I'm not in the mood to fight."

"You think I'm trying to pick a fight?" he whispered back at her. "I'm making sure you're safe."

"I'm not going to have a bodyguard. End of discussion."

They ate their meals in silence. After picking up the check, Chuck stood up and held out his hand to her. The fight had been silent and Blair glared at his proffered hand. She weighed her decision. If she took it, it meant she was giving in. If she did not take it, it meant that she held a grudge.

"Just take it. You're overthinking it," Chuck pointed out.

Blair grumbled and placed her hand in his. He pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her temple as they made their way out of the restaurant. Perhaps sensing the change, the couple of reporters who remained outside merely took a couple of shots of them as they went back into the limo.

They entered Chuck's office, and Blair made her way to the financial report that Chuck told her about. She picked it up and brought it with her to the couch at the corner of the room, then flopped down and started reading. Her fingers flew to the yellow post its marking pages, and made sure to be careful not to dislodge them. She read through the material and looked up at Chuck. Once in a while, she caught him watching her.

"What?" she demanded.

Chuck averted his eyes and scowled at his computer screen. She heard him furiously typing, the tapping of his fingers on the keys too loud for what he was doing. She had never heard anyone typing so passionately.

Blair heard her phone beep. She picked it up and checked her messages, and saw the Gossip Girl update. Her tense jaw relaxed when she saw the snapshot of her and Chuck from that afternoon, just outside the school gates locked in a kiss. She felt his eyes on her. Blair placed her phone on the seat beside her. She returned to her engrossing read about the money flow of Bass. She had never seen so many zeroes in any transaction record. A moment later, her phone beeped again. She picked it up and read.

'Whatever you say, Mrs Bass,' it read. 'Just don't be mad anymore.'

Blair sighed, then closed the message. She looked up and saw Chuck watching her from under hooded eyes, the way he loved looking at her when he was uncertain about something. Blair's heart jumped to her throat. She placed the record down and walked over to him. He pushed his chair back and met her halfway. She stopped, hesitated.

"I'm not mad," she shared. "I'm frustrated. You're frustrating."

"I just love you," he confessed. "That makes me frustrating."

She gave him a sad smile, stepped closer, and then wrapped her arms around his waist. He drew a deep breath and pressed his nose into her hair.

"We need to buy you some patience," he teased.

One month ago, she would have been insulted, and would have analyzed the words to the bone. Now, she looked up at him and teased back, "I have the reports that say you can't afford it."

He winced. "That bad?"

Blair patted his cheek. "You can be a hero. We'll fix it."

"I put something together," he told her. "You want to look it over?"

Blair made her way to his desk and sat on his chair. He stood behind her as he placed his presentation on slide view. Blair was silent as she went over the material. Halfway through it, he knelt beside her, his eyes intent on the presentation. Blair clicked through and studied his proposal. Afterwards, she hit 'escape' and turned to him.

"Well?" he prompted.

Blair paused. "Looks good."

"Are you serious?"

She nodded. And then, it was his turn to launch himself on her and showered her face with kisses. Blair giggled and buried her fingers in his hair. "I have a few revisions," she gasped.

He stood up and pulled her up with him. Blair kept her lips on his. Chuck stumbled backwards until he felt the glass walls behind him.

"It was surprising," she breathed against his lips. "You have a knack for this."

"I love you," he murmured.

The knock on the door interrupted them. Blair looked up and turned around. Chuck buried his nose in the crook of her neck.

"Chuck, there's someone at the door!"

He groaned. Blair straightened her clothes. She made her way back to the couch as Chuck called out for the person to enter.

His secretary entered. "Mr Bass, the board would like to see you."

Chuck frowned. Blair smiled as she watched him interact with the secretary. It was the first time she saw how he was at work. "There's nothing on my calendar."

"It's an emergency meeting, Mr Bass. Some of the other board members just came in for this meeting."

"Who called for it?"

"Mr Farrar, sir."

Chuck picked up his jacket and put it on. Blair made her way to him and fixed his tie, then wiped her lipstick off his mouth. "I've got to take this. Farrar's got the third highest shares after Lily."

Blair nodded. Chuck picked up his laptop and made his way to the door. Before he touched the knob, she called out to him. She walked over and patted his chest. "Good luck," she murmured. She could not help the proud grin she had on when he went off to the meeting.

She had fallen asleep on the couch by the time he returned. But she felt rather than heard his return. She opened her eyes and saw him sitting down in his chair.

"Chuck." He turned his eyes to her, and her breath caught in her throat at what she saw. She raised herself up by her elbow. "What's wrong?"

"They hated it."

Her brows furrowed. Her heart sank at the depression in his voice. "How can they hate it? It was good."

"Guess we're not such a great team after all."

That made her want to cry. But he was devastated, so she kept her own reaction under control. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Apparently, we should spend less time gallivanting around town getting photographed by paparazzi and more time studying all these books." He waved at the binders on his desk. "My ideas were done before. I don't know why I didn't notice. Stupid."

She stood up and made her way to him. This time, it was her turn to stoop down beside him. He frowned and pulled her up to sit on his lap. She wasn't a girl who sat on anyone's lap. She had never done it with Nate, not in ten years. But she let him pull her and she relaxed against him. "If their consultants have done them before, then they weren't stupid. You're seventeen, Chuck. You came up with similar ideas."

"I've got to get in gear and make sure I've read all this. That was humiliating."

She nodded, remembering how she interrupted Chuck reading the binder that morning because she wanted him; and how she did not apply the revisions she wanted because she was too involved making out with her husband. "We'll read all of it. I'm sorry, Chuck."

He kissed her on the forehead. "Will you come with me next time I need to present something?"

"Of course I will." She needed to make it up to him.

"Good." He leaned his head back. "I just want to go home."

"Okay," she said. "Let's go home." She got up and then loosened his tie to help him relax on the way home.

"By the way," he added, "they want us to stop going around town getting photographed having PDA."

"What?" she snapped.

"That's the emergency. Apparently, Farrar saw the Gossip Girl blast on his daughter's phone. It's unseemly when the company in such trouble."

Blair's eyes narrowed. "What did you tell them?"

"I said I'll shape up and have better ideas for the company, but to butt the hell out of my marriage."

"Good," she said, satisfied. "We'll work on a better proposal until our ears bleed, but they're not cutting my time with you."

He placed his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side. "We just have to have better control of ourselves."

"Good luck to us," she muttered.

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: **So from the beginning I've said this was intended to be fluff. Some of you guys are still waiting for everything to be shot to hell. Lol. Relax, friends. I am missing the angst, but the fact that Blair returned to the hotel in Florence after demanding a divorce from him (within the same part) should give you comfort. Yes, this is my insane dive into unknown territory. As always, let me know what you think.

**Part 15**

"That is the fifth time you yawned," Serena piped up, mildly irritated.

Blair looked up wide-eyed at her best friend (stepsister-in-law now) with surprise. She was exhausted, but had not realized how rude she had been. They had only been sitting together for half an hour. One yawn every six minutes was definitely unflattering. No one was supposed to be bored or sleepy around Serena van der Woodsen.

"And please don't tell me that Chuck has been tiring you out," Serena pleaded.

"No," Blair answered abruptly. And then she paused, "Actually he has." When Serena winced, she amended, "But not in the way you think."

"Oh God!" Serena groaned. She shook her head, and her blonde hair moved prettily with her. "Don't mention unexpected positions please."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "As it happens, we didn't have sex last night," she pointed out. "We were too exhausted." Dreamily, she added, "But we did yesterday afternoon after school."

Serena dropped the last statement completely out of the conversation. Instead, she focused on her initial explanation. "What made you so exhausted? Was it the test in Bio?"

Blair gave her a look of distaste.

_Practical tests on slicing open frogs had been one thing. Slicing open slimy little wormlike creatures to was another. She had peered under the microscope and saw the squiggly dying worm and she had promptly thrown up. She could not even stumble out of the classroom. Instead, Blair fell to her hands and knees under the lab table and vomited._

_She used to be so cool and aloof in these experiments. Valedictorians did not nearly faint, were not squeamish at the sight of white blood._

_Dammit._

_She was going to need an extra credit project to make up for that episode._

_By the time the bell rang, she drew out her phone from her bag to text Chuck about her awful experience. The moment she touched it the phone started vibrating. She answered the call, and promptly and tearfully prepared to share._

"_I saw it on Gossip Girl," he told her even before she admitted to it. "I'm sorry, Mrs Bass. Do you want me to come and pick you up?"_

_She shook her head, until she realized he could not see the action. "No. It's fine. Just two more periods left."_

"_I'll pick you up," he told her._

"Earth to Blair."

Blair blinked up at Serena. "Sorry. No," she answered. Once again, she yawned. "Chuck and I were working on the next board proposal. We didn't want to rush it."

"Awww, B, you've been working on that for how long now?"

"Three weeks," she admitted.

_Three arduous weeks of takeout food and long nights in the office broken by periods of room service and working nights in the apartment. Really, if they became shut-ins, it would be the same. They had food sent in and they spent most of the time in front of their respective computers or pouring through company records._

_Chuck had teased her about it a week and a half into their progress. "Eat, work, drink, go to the bathroom and have sex."_

_Blair had been falling asleep on the report she was going through. She looked up at him and asked, "What?"_

_He smirked, then slid over to where she was sitting on the floor leaning against the couch. He kissed her on the lips. Blair was reluctant when he slid his tongue in her mouth, partly because she tasted like Kung Pao chicken and mostly because she had thrown up the dumplings from the night before. No matter how many times she brushed her teeth, she was afraid she still tasted like it._

_Chuck answered, "I was summarizing the next fifty years of our lives."_

_That made her chuckle. She set aside the book and climbed onto his lap. Blair straddled him with her legs thrown over both his thighs. She leaned down and captured his lips. "You think we'll still be getting some when we're sixty eight?"_

"_Let me revise," he murmured against her lips. "That would be the next eighty years."_

_Blair laughed and threw her head back, moaned when he explored further inside her blouse._

_There had been no work done for the next hour and a half. They probably even destroyed a half dozen contracts when they rolled over them in their exertions. All she knew was by the time they were done, the papers were scattered all over the carpet, crumpled, moist, with some of the ink blotted out._

_And so they had to stay up another four hours, way into the morning, to catch up on the work they could not do._

_She was tired when he dragged her with him to the shower. She was yawning, exhausted and grumpy, when he turned on the water and started soaping her back._

"_Completely worth it," he whispered into her ear._

_But Blair was sleepless and grumpy, so she said, "It was okay."_

_Chuck made a clucking noise, then wrapped his slippery hands around her waist and hefted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He lowered her onto him. Blair grabbed behind her and rested her hand on the tiles. Her other hand gripped the towel rod._

"_Ah!" she gasped. "So deep. Chuck, that's it."_

_He pushed inside her, and she felt herself stretching even more than usual to accommodate him. Blair squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "Blair, come on, come."_

"That's how long you two have been at it?"

Blair flushed brightly. "At what?"

Serena rolled her eyes. "That project."

Oh. "Yes."

Serena shrugged. "That should be interesting. But you two are working at it too hard. Why don't you have Chuck's advisers prepare a draft for you? Then you two can approve it."

"Chuck wants to be hands on. He's going to save the company, S," Blair declared.

"B, as much as it's delightful to hear how much confidence you have in him, you two are working yourself to the bone," Serena pointed out. "Delegation is key."

Blair shook her head. "Not this time. This is a project that should bring Bass Industries back. This is Chuck's project."

"Where is my dear stepbrother?" Serena asked, her gaze going to the gate for the usual limo that would bring Chuck by to pick up the queen. "He's late."

"Never mind. He's going to be here any moment." Blair rose from her seat. "I have a little robin to catch."

"You two talk the same now?" Serena exclaimed.

Blair approached the small group of freshmen girls standing around one of the tables. She gave the girls a smile, her royal one, the one that said, 'I am the top of the pack.' The tactic worked, and the girls seemed to start bowing to her. Not literally of course. That would look silly.

"Robin Farrar," Blair drawled. "I heard you were in high school now."

"Oh my God, she knows Rob," Blair heard one of the freshmen girls whisper.

Robin stared up at Blair wide-eyed. "Blair Waldorf, you're talking to me!"

Blair almost curled her lips in disgust at the stupid reaction. Instead, she smiled sweetly. "Of course I know you, Robin. I saw you from over there." Blair pointed to where Serena was sitting, waving at them. She had to hand it to Serena. Even unprompted, she knew the best responses when suddenly thrust into one of Blair's plans. The girls were obviously even more awed that Serena van der Woodsen said hello. "And I told my very best friend to excuse me. I wanted to say hi."

"Really?" the girl breathed.

Blair's voice took on a sharp edge. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Oh yes, yes."

"Well, I should go back. My husband is picking me up soon."

"That's Chuck Bass!" one of the girls threw in to the group. "She's talking about Chuck Bass."

"Robin, get her to hang out with us more."

"Are you crazy?" replied the Farrar girl. "She's Blair Waldorf."

Blair turned with a grin. "Bass."

"Right." The girl flushed.

Blair started walking away towards Serena. She counted in her head. She would get an invitation in less than ten seconds. One. Two. Three. Four.

She barely reached fifteen when she felt the hand on her arm.

"Blair Waldorf-Bass."

Blair grinned brightly. She met Serena's puzzled look. Blair turned around. "Yes, Robin. Farrar," she added, copying off the way the girl addressed her.

"Will you come hang out with us this weekend in our family barbecue? The girls will be there."

"Oh I don't know," Blair said in a measured tone. "I wanted to hang out with my husband. He works all week."

"Oh my God, that's perfect!" cheered the girl. "My father works with him."

"Oh does he?"

Robin nodded. "And I'm sure dad would like to hang out with him. I mean, he's the boss, right?"

"He is."

"Well?"

Blair nodded. "Thank you, Robin. I'm sure Chuck would like to come to your family barbecue."

Blair returned to Serena's table and watched as Robin jogged back to her friends, squealing and clapping like she just won the lottery.

"What did you do, B?" Serena asked.

"Nothing," Blair answered. At Serena's look of doubt, she said, "Nothing bad. I'm trying to get some connections for Chuck. Win Farrar over; win the board," she reasoned.

"B!" Serena protested. "And you're doing it through his daughter?"

"There's no harm done."

"The poor girl probably thinks you really like her."

Blair shrugged. "Well I might come to like her." And then she grinned. "Highly unlikely, but there's always a slim possibility."

He was calling again. Blair picked up her phone and greeted cheerfully.

"I'm stuck in a conference call with my investor from Tokyo," Chuck told her over the phone. "I might not be getting out of here any time soon. Go home and get some sleep."

As if on cue, the limo rolled to the front of the school, and no Chuck stepped outside to pick her up. Her heart sank. Blair took her books and went over to the limo.

They were on the way to the apartment, and she was tired with no sleep at all the night before. Still, she told the driver to take her to the office.

When she entered Chuck's room, he looked up in surprise. He placed his phone on mute. "What are you doing here, Blair? Go home and get some sleep."

She went up to him and kissed him on the cheek. She saw a small image of the two of them on the bottom right of his screen. He was in a video conference, and his Japanese investor just saw her kissing the CEO of Bass Industries. Blair smiled at the camera and bowed her head. "I'm working whenever you are," she assured him.

Blair picked up a folder that she recognized were printouts of the reference materials he had requested for. She plopped down on the couch and started marking off names and contact details.

Chuck watched her. She looked up at him and blew him a kiss. Chuck grinned and turned back to his meeting.

He sounded rough and sexy speaking in Japanese.

Maybe tonight, if they had enough strength, she would ask him to make love to her while he talked dirty in Nihongo.

Blair picked up her phone and dialed the first number she had marked.

"Mr Price, I'm Blair Waldorf-Bass and I'm calling for Bass Industries. I was wondering if we can call you back for a special project we are working on. Mr Bass and I have reviewed your credentials and you are the perfect fit for this project."

Blair went through eight hundred names, called forty, and had thirty committed to the project. It was still a small group, but it was a start. Chuck finally ended his call. He pushed his chair back and stretched. Chuck walked over to her and looked down at the file, saw her notes. He sat down on the chair by the head of the couch.

"Great job, Mrs Bass!"

She smiled. Her eyes were crossing out of sheer exhaustion. "You didn't do too shabbily yourself, Mr Bass."

"Couldn't have gotten to him without all your documentation."

Blair's jaw dropped. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"We have an investor."

Blair jumped up off the couch and threw her arms around his. Chuck stood up and lifted her up off her feet, whirled her around.

"Chuck, wait, I'm getting dizzy!"

He laughed and swung her around. "You were amazing! Your project plan was brilliant!" he exclaimed. "There is no way the board is going to throw out a perfectly good project plan that has a ready group of talents," he said, referring to the committed former employees of Bass, "and an investor making the cash out for Bass minimal at best."

Blair clutched at his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut, until she felt her feet touch the ground. "You are a good salesman. You pitched to him and you got him. That was all you, Chuck."

He gave her a brilliant smile. "You're the best wife in the world." Chuck pressed his lips to hers.

Blair promptly pushed at his chest and fell to her hands and knees.

A gurgling noise, then a splash.

Blair heaved on the fine carpet, then blinked up at him tearfully. "I told you you were making me dizzy."

Chuck grimaced when Blair lowered her head again and retched.

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: **I took a sick leave from work today. I have a splitting headache. My whole body is aching. I don't know why I'm writing.

**Part 16**

Chuck gathered his wife up into his arms and held her close. Blair pushed against his chest. He held firm. Her phone was ringing ceaselessly. She started to reach for it, but he stayed her hand. "What's wrong, Blair? Are you sick?"

She sniffled, then wiped her mouth with his handkerchief. She covered her mouth with the cloth. "I've got to wash my mouth."

Chuck watched after her as she raced to his private bathroom and grimaced at the nasty sound of more vomiting. His own phone started ringing. Chuck glared at his office phone. It stopped ringing. Then his cellphone rang. Chuck reached for it and saw Lily's name on the caller ID.

"I've been calling Blair for the last few minutes!" Lily exclaimed.

"Yes?" he said curtly.

"Really, Chuck," he heard his stepmother's droll voice say. "Is that how you answer your phone?"

Chuck sighed. "Lily," he said, his voice softening, "I'm sorry. Blair's sick."

"That's what I was calling about," Lily shared. "Serena's been sick for the last two hours. I think it's food poisoning. I'm taking her to the emergency room. She's moaning about having had lunch delivered to school for her and Blair."

Chuck walked over to the bathroom door and found it locked. "Blair, are you feeling better?" he called gently.

"Go away!" he heard her muffled cry.

He burst harshly into the phone, "From which restaurant?"

"Oriental Garden," Lily offered.

"I'll sue their ass."

He heard the sigh on the other end of the line. "Well that's what I was calling about. I'm bringing Serena over now. I'll see you two there?"

The noises were relaxing now, and he would wager Blair was brushing her teeth. "I'll take Blair," he confirmed.

"I'll let you know if they find anything. It's probably going to be the same thing for Blair." Chuck heard Serena's awful voice in the background. His stepsister sounded worse for wear. He had no doubt she was going to miss school the next day. "If it's nothing, I'll call you."

"Alright. Thank you, Lily."

Chuck stepped back when the door opened. Blair stepped outside with a freshly scrubbed face, her face a little pale, but with a small smile of reassurance on her face.

"We're going to the hospital," Chuck informed her. He walked over to his computer and locked it, then placed folders on top of each other. He pressed the call button on his phone and advised the secretary to have the limo waiting outside the building.

Blair calmly walked over to the couch and picked up her bag. "I want to go home."

Chuck glanced at her uncertainly. She seemed shaken by the bout of sickness, but now looked a lot better. The color was starting to come back to her cheeks. Food poisoning was a continuous spasm, and would not end so quickly. Maybe she was able to release the toxins earlier. He looked back at the stained carpet and noted the lack of solid material in the mess.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. Because after the long day, he wanted to go home as much as she did. Lying in bed with her, just curled up with his wife with his nose buried in her hair while she slept, would have been the perfect antidote to a long and exhausting day.

She nodded and walked over to him. Chuck sucked in his breath when she pressed up her whole body against him. He looked down into her shining eyes. "I'm tired and I want to curl up in bed."

"You're sick."

"It's gone now."

He frowned, but nevertheless wrapped one arm around her to pull her closer. "Lily thinks it's food poisoning. Serena's been sick and she mentioned you two had lunch together."

"She had lemon chicken. I had stir-fried tofu and broccoli." She bit her lip. "Is she okay?"

Chuck shrugged. "Lily will call."

"We should go and visit her, bring some flowers."

He brushed his thumb on her chin and brought his lips down for a kiss. "She hasn't been admitted yet. And you look like you're ready to fall."

Blair yawned and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm so tired," she confessed, feeling a bit guilty for saying it out loud. He was working so hard, and did not need to worry about anything else. "But we're almost done, right? We can present the project proposal tomorrow. Or in two days," Blair realized. "When is your investor flying in?"

"He's taking the next flight in. But give him at least an entire day for travel."

"Two days then. I want to meet with him before the presentation," Blair told him.

Chuck sighed and lifted her up into his arms. He had only done it once before, when he carried her over the symbolic threshold of the elevator. Blair dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Chuck, what are you doing?" she gasped.

"Ssshhh." He walked over to the couch and plopped down on it. He held onto her as he rested his head back. "Let's relax," he told her.

She settled in a comfortable position on his lap and closed her eyes. "Okay. We need that. Tomorrow will be—"

"Don't think about work," he advised. "Just for a little bit. I just want to hold you."

Blair's lips curved. Her breathing became more regular and he knew she had drifted off to sleep so easily. Chuck noticed the sliver of light on the ceiling as the door opened. He saw his secretary step into the room. He raised a finger to his lips as a gesture of silence.

The woman quietly said, "The limo is waiting for you, Mr Bass."

Chuck glanced down at Blair. She moved to rub her nose in his shirt. Chuck toed off his shoes.

"Would you like me to send him back to the parking lot, Mr Bass?"

Chuck smirked. He had said it once and he would say it again. "Gina, you need a raise."

His secretary, who had also been his father's, nodded. "I'll draft the papers and have them waiting for tomorrow morning. Ten percent, Mr Bass?"

"Make it twelve."

"Very good, Mr Bass." She moved to close the door. "I'll drop by your apartment and get a fresh change of clothes ready for you."

"If you can also call Dorota," Chuck requested.

"School uniform for your wife, sir?"

Chuck shook his head. "Have Dorota pick out a dress for Blair. And get me something more casual. We'll take the day off tomorrow."

Gina closed the door with a smile on her face. Once they were alone again, Chuck leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Sitting down to sleep like that, he would probably get a crick in the neck. He did not care. Hell, it was probably the most comfortable he had been since Italy.

He woke up in the middle of the night when Blair started shifting on his lap. Chuck gritted his teeth as she moved when he found himself hard and pulsing. She must have noticed, because she shifted up so that he would be cradled in the crevice of her ass. "Chuck," she said sleepily, "what's taking the limo so long?"

"I sent the driver home," he answered.

"Okay," she agreed. Blair straightened and smiled down at him. "I should get off. Your legs must be cramping up."

He shook his head and pulled her closer. "You're light as a feather, Mrs Bass."

"Flatterer," she mumbled against his lips.

"How are you feeling?"

Blair grinned. She took a deep breath, then released it. She spared a glance at the mess she made on the carpet. She had to remember to tell Gina to have them replace that part because he was sure Chuck had forgotten about it. "A lot better," she answered. "Definitely not food poisoning."

"Then what was that?"

"You whirling me around when I already told you I was dizzy," she pointed out.

Chuck grimaced. "That. Sorry."

Blair grinned. She looked around for her bag and saw the contents spilled around where it had fallen earlier. She stood up, but Chuck grabbed her wrist. "I have to get my phone," she told him. "Serena might have texted or something."

He sat her back down on the couch. "I'll grab it." Chuck made his way over to the fallen bag and started placing the contents back inside. His hand hovered over a blanket of pills still complete and untouched. He raised them and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I have to start it on the first day of my period. Look at the numbers at the back. They correspond to each day in the cycle," she said, repeating the instructions to him.

"That sounds complicated. Just pop one out and take it."

Blair extended her hand to hurry him up. "I can't. It's not going to be effective if you don't follow it to the letter."

Chuck walked over and handed her the bag. Blair checked the her phone and saw the messages from Serena. She started reading them and giggled. Chuck sat beside her and started kissing her neck. "What did she say?"

"It's food poisoning," Blair offered. "And she says not to bother coming because it's a mild case and they've sent her home with meds."

Chuck grunted, glad to know his stepsister was okay. If it was a mild case on Serena, then Blair probably had a milder one because she was better after vomiting the food. He nipped at Blair's earlobe, and she gave a satisfied sound. "Why are you grinning?"

"She says, 'Thank God it's food poisoning! Or else mom will have a fit.'"

Chuck raised his head and frowned at Blair. "Is she seeing Humphrey again?"

Blair shook her head. "Not anymore."

Chuck relaxed. "At least she's not pregnant. If she's carrying Humphrey's spawn she'd want to take a cue from me and want to jump off the rooftop." The memory made her shudder. Chuck ran his hands down her arms. "And she won't have someone who loves her to talk her out of it."

At that, she blinked away the moisture in her eyes. Blair leaned down and cupped his cheeks. "Don't remind me ever again. I was so scared."

He rested his palm over her heart, felt the racing beats as she remembered the day he almost did himself in. That Chuck, that boy, seemed so long ago now, seemed like such a different person. It was almost easy for him to talk about because he knew it was impossible. It wasn't him. But for her, it was Chuck, and he felt guilty for bringing up the memories.

His hand over her chest lowered and he cupped the curve of her breast. Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes, but he could tell that she was looking at where his hand started to massage her. She lifted her gaze to meet his. Chuck raised his other hand and covered her breast then massaged as well. She hissed and her head fell back.

He could feel her nipples like pebbles straining against his palm. The awareness of it made his erection grow. He shifted until he was on his knees on the carpet in front of her. His hands fell away from her breasts and moved to her legs. He moved to massage her thighs, then lifted her legs up over his shoulders.

"Chuck, we're in your office," she protested.

"I'm helping you distress," he pointed out. She bit her lip when he pressed a kiss on the inside of her thigh. "And then later you can appraise how good of a job I did, alright, Mrs Bass?"

The words made her smile. "Do your best," she said in approval.

~o~o~

The day off had been a welcome respite to the weeks they spent working on their project plan. By the end of the day, Blair received four messages from the architects that she had called back that their models had arrived in Bass Industries. It was a sly move, one that did not escape Chuck's attention. For the most part, they were banking on his father for his first big project. Unlike the other proposal, he had whipped up his ideas in one deck and presented them to the board. This time, he and Blair had spent weeks going through business strategies in Europe and Asia and came up with the plan.

Afterwards, with their intention locked, they had stared at a portrait of the last CEO and asked—

It was Blair who asked out loud of course, because Chuck would not be caught dead saying it.

"What would Bart Bass do?"

It had sent them to Bart's old files, of plans he placed on hold because it was not time for them, or because there had been another priority. But being that Bart had kept them and not completely trashed the ideas meant they had promise, and Chuck only needed to refine them.

And that was how they landed on the proposal to build luxury apartment construction to market to fresh graduates of high school. While the students went off to college, and most of their trust funds were unleashed when they turned eighteen, they would put the money towards monthly contributions while the apartments were built. Because the building was not yet completed, they got to purchase their units at a premium. It benefited both parties because a five million dollar luxury apartment, brought through the proposed plan, only cost three million dollars, which the students paid off in monthly installments. By the time they graduated, the apartments would be ready for occupancy. With the investor that Chuck tapped from Japan, Bass Industries shouldered next to nothing of the cost. It was investor money and the occupants were already paying for most of the construction cost for the next building.

There had been no need to pay for architects to work on designs. Within Bart's files Blair found approved condominium blueprints that were part of Bart's 2010 expansion plans. It had been easy to choose four out of the dozens of blueprints there. She also chose the top from last fiscal year's performance reviews and called them to be part of the project team. She had marketers, advertisers, salespeople and project managers on hand, and there had been no need to spend on recruitment.

Because everything had been prepared the last few weeks, the day before the presentation had been just as Chuck wanted it. Instead of hurried preparations, he was able to take Blair home in the morning. He even waved goodbye to Farrar with some cockiness.

"You have to be a little friendlier to him," Blair cautioned Chuck. "He's got veto power."

"I've got Lily. I don't need Farrar," Chuck told her in the limo.

"Farrar's got the rest of the board," she told him. "And we're going for his Sunday barbecue."

Chuck made a look of disgust. "Sunday is family day."

"That's when we get him in his best mood," Blair said sagely. "He has no choice but to adore you when you bring your young and beautiful wife to his home and show everyone how devoted you are. What do you say?"

The corners of his lips lifted. "I couldn't ever say no to flaunting my devotion, Mrs Bass."

She clapped, then gave him a peck on the cheek. Blair looked outside the window as they passed through the streets. And then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Chuck brushed his thumb over her lips. "You're sick."

She nodded. "Just a little. Maybe a touch of the food poison is still in my system. It's almost gone."

"Come here." She shifted over to him and leaned against his shoulder. Chuck ran his fingers down her hair. "Let's go to the hospital."

"They sent Serena home," she reminded him. "I'll ride it out. We have so few breaks that I want to spend them in our place with you instead of a stuffy hospital with strangers."

He had wanted to take her out for lunch, then spend the whole afternoon shopping for her. That would have really pissed off Farrar to learn that he took a personal day and then started showing the world thoughtless spending on the tails of Bass posting financial losses. Chuck would have brought Blair to a five star restaurant for dinner, and where water was so sweet and pure it cost twelve dollars for a small bottle.

Instead, for their day off, Blair changed into his silk pajama top while he wore the bottoms. He would have loved to see her in one of her couture nightgowns, but she seemed more relaxed and looked even more like a wife in his clothes that he just wanted to start taking pictures. She climbed onto bed and slept. He climbed in after her and gathered her against him, then drifted off to sleep as well. They slept in until eleven.

He had food delivered and the two of them shared a meal sitting on the floor in front of their tv set. They never did bother to change. After watching 300, which was one of Chuck's favorite movies of all time, Blair popped in her copy of Roman Holiday then crawled to lie down on the floor with her head propped on his thigh.

Chuck placed his food down. His hand crept to her shoulder, then crept to her breast. He leaned down and licked the outer shell of her ear.

"Movie too boring for you?" she chirped with a chuckle.

"It's fascinating. Princess Ann just doesn't have a place in the common man's world," he murmured. Playfully, he flicked at her nipple with his finger. She hissed in pain. Chuck drew his hand back as if burned. "Did I hurt you?" his voice rumbled.

She shook her head, but belied the response by touching the breast in question gently. "They're sore. I didn't want to say anything last night."

"I'm sorry. You're probably getting your period soon," he told her. And then he pressed a quick kiss on the underside of her breast as his apology. He grinned. "I'll try to keep my hands off you."

Blair grinned, and then started laughing softly.

"So you'll be there for the presentation tomorrow, right?"

Blair reached up and tugged on his ears to pull him down for a kiss. "Of course I will. I can't miss the "Rise of the Bass.'"

He smiled against her kiss. "Trying to get a rise of the Bass, right now, Mrs Bass."

"Seriously," she said, "have the limo pick me up at two. I'll cut the last two periods. Presentation's at four, right?"

"Let me pick you up," he suggested.

"No. I want you relaxed and waiting for your big moment. I can't wait! Your dad would be so proud."

tbc


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: **This one is wholeheartedly dedicated to Lynnie, because she made my boring day at work sooo good by sending spoiler pics.

**Part 17**

"Rise and shine, Mrs Bass," he said, nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck. Blair smiled as she felt his weight on her. She opened her eyes and was not surprised to see his face hovering above hers. He laid pressed down on her.

"I'm up," she said softly, smiling at him with her eyes. It was an encouraging smile, a boosting smile. It was a smile that told him he could do anything. "Looks like I'm not the only one up."

He gave a shy grin, then kissed the corner of her mouth. He wriggled his hips. "Are you up for it?" His hand trained down to her belly, and he moved his palm in warm circles. Blair gasped, and her legs parted for him. His tongue flicked out to lick the outer shell of her ear. "If you're not in the mood, just tell me. No hard feelings," he offered teasingly. "But I'll go to the bathroom and kill myself."

Her arms wrapped around his neck. His hand already hiked up his pajama top that she wore. Blair's fingers slid to the gartered waist of his pajama pants and pushed it down, revealing his bare ass to her soft touch.

"We don't want that," she responded. She held him in her hand and guided him to her. "Gently," she asked. "I'm sore."

"Okay," he breathed into her ear. He reached for a condom packet and ripped the foil, then placed it on. With her own hand guiding him, Chuck slid home. He felt the way her muscles spasmed immediately around him, almost like trying to expel him but putting him even more tightly inside her. She threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. Chuck gripped her thighs, stilled his hips and slowly moved his hands to soothe her tense legs. "Blair," he bit out. "How is it?"

He saw the liquid bloom in the corners of her eyes. He clenched his jaw and started to pull out, but she held onto him, tightly against her.

"If it's too painful," he offered. He had to remember the date. He would mark it in his calendar. There was no way he could claim expertise to women's bodily functions, but it was obvious that sex hurt her before her period.

She opened her eyes as they glimmered with her tears. "It's not painful. It's amazing," she gasped. She took a deep breath, then flexed under him, taking him in deeper inside her. "So amazing, Chuck."

Her movement gave him more courage, and he slowly slid partway out of her, still her hips when she started to follow him. When he was completely out of her, he slid smoothly back inside. She sucked in her breath and she moaned.

"I can feel every part of you," she said softly.

He slowly reached down and undid the buttons on the pajama top that she wore. After undoing a few, he pushed the silk away to bare her shoulders and her breasts to his gaze. "Are they still sensitive?"

She nodded, her hair falling over her face every time he thrust into her. Blair flushed when he stared at the pink tips, because they shook every time he entered her.

He smiled down at her. "I'll take of it, Mrs Bass." Blair held her breath when his lips hovered above her tender nipples.

"Chuck, don't."

He brushed the tip of his nose against one of the hard peaks. Blair gasped in surprise at the quick action that sent a quick sharp feeling to her belly. She watched warily when he leaned down and dropped a kiss on each tip. It was like a quick strike of lightning ripped through her starting from her chest.

Blair's head fell back on the pillow when she felt his lips cover her breast. Her eyes rolled back in her head when his hot tongue wrapped around one nipple.

He moved steadily inside her. Chuck reached between them and flicked at her center with his thumb. At the same time, he moved to the other breast and gently bit at the sensitive tip.

"I have something for you," he said into her skin.

Blair took deep, heavy breaths. She kept her eyes closed even while Chuck slid out of her. He got up from the bed to dispose of the condom. When he came back, she blinked up sleepily at him. "You have a gift for me?" she yawned.

Chuck picked up the envelope from the dresser. He had spent a large part of the past three weeks while working on the proposal to come up with the perfect gift for his wife. She sat up on the bed and reached for the envelope.

"Is it a trip?" she gushed in excitement.

He shook his head. "Even better."

Blair's eyes sparkled as she slid the folded paper out. Her eyes widened. Her gaze flew to Chuck. "Is this real?"

He nodded slowly. The reaction was well worth the donation and the days chasing after strangers. "I couldn't take that away from you, Mrs Bass."

Blair gave him a fat smile, then held the letter against her chest.

"I'm going to miss the hell out of you when you go to school," he confessed. Chuck bent forward and captured her lips.

Blair's arm hooked around his neck and she prolonged the kiss. "We'll make it work." She looked down at the letter again, blinking at it as if disbelieving. "You made it happen. Yale!"

He shook his head. "I can't think of anyone more deserving."

She carefully placed the letter on the nightstand. He rose to prepare for work. He felt her eyes follow his movement. "Best girl I ever got," she told him. "What's the occasion?"

Chuck smirked at her, then starting choosing his attire for the day. "Sure you don't want to stay home and relax?"

Blair shook her head. "I've got a Trig exam," she told him. She narrowed her eyes. "Am I missing something?"

"Does a husband need an special occasion to give a gift to his wife?" he asked, walking to her holding up a purple coat for her to wear with her uniform. He had selected a light purple shirt as well. They would make a statement in front of the board wearing the color he thought irritated his father the most.

Blair pursed her lips and started buttoning up the silk pajama top. "Either there's an occasion or you cheated on me," she pointed out. Chuck glared at her in a very offense. She flew up from the bed and pressed up against him as apology. "I know you'd never cheat on me," she said quickly to alleviate any damage.

Chuck sighed. He cupped her cheek. "It's not us."

Her eyes shone. "You mean it's sickening."

He nodded. "I couldn't help it."

"So what is it?" she prodded with a grin.

Chuck held onto her cheeks and he gave her a long, thorough kiss. When he raised his head, her lips were still pursed, her eyes closed. "Happy first month wedding anniversary," he greeted softly.

Blair's eyes flew open only to find him already closing the bathroom door. "Oh my God!" he heard her gasp through the closed door.

Chuck dialed her phone again, and growled when his call rolled into voicemail. It was four, time for the presentation. She had asked the driver to pick her up at three thirty instead of two. The change of plan was caused by a sudden oral assessment in Microbiology. She had seemed completely on edge during the entire ride to school that morning. She had spent the entire time in the limo fidgeting. And now she was nowhere to be found. The board was already inside the conference room, and so were his Japanese investors.

"Don't keep them waiting, Chuck," Lily admonished when she found Chuck wearing a path on the carpet.

Chuck glared at Lily. "She wants to be here. She's been working her ass off for the last three weeks to finish this project."

Lily sighed, then settled in one of the armchairs. She glanced up at the clock. It was a quarter past the hour. "You know it would be worse if you never get to present what you both worked very hard for. I'm sure she's just running late."

Chuck licked her lips. He looked through the glass wall of his office, and through the glass wall of the conference rooms. The board members were starting to speak amongst themselves, displeasure evident in their faces. He nodded. He pulled himself up, his heart thundering madly in his chest.

Chuck strode to the conference room. He entered his password into the computer set up on the desk, and turned on the projector. "Thank you for coming." His voice was wispy, trembled a bit. Chuck cleared his throat. If Blair had been there, like she told him, he would have been able to speak with more confidence. He adjusted his purple tie. "Konnichiwa."

"Get to it," Farrar said. "We've wasted enough time."

Chuck gritted his teeth. He showed the first slide, which was a bar graph comparing the real estate market returns in Manhattan per age group. "You see here that we have established our market base on the people with the most money to spend. Because we will target people going off to college, the buildings do not need to be ready for occupancy for four more years. They are paying us at a premium discount while we use their money to furnish."

Farrar's doubtful brows smoothened. He nodded. Chuck turned to the next slide. "This table shows you the amount of money that Bass needs to shell out. Compare that to the money that Bass shelled out on other projects that did not earn for half a decade before the profit came. In this framework, we will be using capital from our partners as they seek to expand, and the money our customers are paying us."

One of the older ladies of the board raised her hand. Chuck drew a shuddering breath, then nodded to her. "You say we will only spend that amount. But what you've itemized there are construction materials, permits and marketing. How are you going to pay for the R&D involved in getting strong designs? Do you realize how much it costs to even order a blueprint for selection from any of the external divisions?"

This was Blair's idea, and she deserved to have been the one to say it. Chuck walked to the side of the room where the shrouds were. He drew back the cover and revealed the miniature models of the buildings that Blair had selected. "We spent zero dollars acquiring these designs. These are from previously approved building models that my father had on hold for 2010. I think we need them a year early."

The woman's lips curved, and she nodded in approval.

Chuck went through the marketing slides, and showed the Gantt project chart. He itemized the milestones that needed to be completed. He saw the impressed look on Farrar's face and felt the heady triumph.

There was a brief knock on the door, and Gina stepped inside. Chuck paused. "What is it?"

"Phone call for you, Mr Bass."

"I'm not taking any phone calls during the meeting, Gina," he advised. His secretary nodded and backed away.

Chuck returned to the slide he had created on the project teams he needed, and the resources he was looking into pooling together from the previously terminated Bass employees. "Doing so will be stellar publicity for us. We are hiring from our own pool. We would not have recruitment cost, and there will be little to no learning curve."

He heard a phone ringing, and looked up. Lily glanced down at the caller ID and excused herself. Chuck started talking through the management plan, then glimpsed Lily's face through the glass walls. "By Nov—Novem—by No—"

"Mr Bass, continue," Farrar requested.

Chuck tore his eyes from Lily as she spoke on the phone. "By November we will start marketing campaigns to our eighteen to twenty one year old market. For the trust funds," he added.

He finished his presentation just as Lily walked back into the conference room. Chuck threw her a questioning look.

"I have to say," Mr Farrar told the group, "that this was a pleasant surprise." He stood up from his seat, and patted Chuck on the back. "Now I know why Bart made what I thought was the most idiotic decision he's ever done. The plan looks like a formidable one, Mr Bass."

"You're going to be on point for this one."

Chuck almost felt like the world was spinning around him. It had been approved. Three weeks of losing sleep, of working until their eyes almost bled, and he was leading a division. Real work, real decisions, real responsibility. He nodded, but found himself walking towards his stepmother.

"Who was that?" he demanded.

Lily met his eyes. "That was my daughter." She nodded to his projected slides. "You did a good job, Chuck. They're very impressed with you."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Where's my wife, Lily?"

Lily sighed. "Blair fainted at the courtyard. They rushed her to the hospital, but she's fine. Serena's staying with her. She's awake and she wants you to finish the presentation."

She had been so tired, and so sick, and he had not even let her rest. Chuck stood up. "To hell with this. I'm going to see her."

Lily caught his hand. "Chuck, you're CEO of this company. You can't just leave your own meeting with the board and your investors here."

"Damage control, Lily," was all Chuck said. And then, he turned to the board members, and bowed to the investors. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you. My wife's had a fainting spell and she's in the hospital. ******Domo arigato gozaimashita**."

His investors spoke in brusque Japanese, and their translators parried in the same. He moved to leave, but one of the translators called him back. "Mister." Chuck turned partly back, to show them that he had no intention of staying. "My master say 'congratulations.'"

Chuck frowned deeper, but held himself back. Cultural differences, he reminded himself. "My wife is sick, Mr Morimoto."

"Yes, Mister. My master simply wish you felicitations on your child. His wife also faint fouh time in her first three month."

Chuck blinked at the Asian man, then turned his slack jaw at Lily. Lily was beaming, but she shrugged her shoulders. "Go."

He grinned, then nodded, and fled the room.

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 18**

It was to be expected of course. The moment he grabbed his phone he saw the Gossip Girl blast. Blair was featured on the photo, leaning heavily on Serena. The smaller snapshots were more dramatic ones of Humphrey carrying her back inside the building, presumably to the nurse's office. He should send Humphrey a gift—maybe a dark blue Cross fountain pen.

He arrived at the hospital to the sound of his stepsister talking incessantly about a topic neither he nor his wife had much interest on.

"Like you were a feather, B!" Serena exclaimed. "I mean, I know I said I didn't want to consider anything apart from friendship. But, imagine it, B. I knew he was a thinker, but I didn't know he was that strong."

His wife's response sounded like she was offended. "Are you saying you think I'm heavy?" Blair demanded.

Chuck strode into the room, and smiled warmly at Blair. He released a breath he did not realize he had been holding at the sight of her sitting up, with a rosy flush to her cheeks. He had imagined the worst on the rode over. She bit her lip when she saw him. She reached out a hand towards him, which he took immediately. "How did it go? Did they love it?"

Chuck turned to Serena and said, "Get going, sis." Serena huffed, and Chuck gave her a lopsided smile. "But thanks."

Serena grinned, then nodded. She went over to hug her best friend, and stopped at their linked hands blocking her way. She arched an eyebrow at Chuck. "If you don't mind."

"I mind," he said pointedly, but released Blair's hand anyway so Serena could hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Serena told her.

"Text first," Blair instructed. "They're going to release me soon."

Chuck waited until Serena was out of the room before grasping Blair's hand in his and raising it to his lips. "How are you feeling?" he murmured against her knuckles.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I was so excited about our presentation. I skipped a meal. Couple that with the fact that we haven't really had much sleep—"

He nodded, then sat down beside her on the hospital bed. "Exhaustion huh?" She agreed to his assessment. He leaned close to her and captured her lips. "Is that what the doctor told you?"

She flushed. He could tell she knew something, but would not share. "The doctor hasn't come back with my blood test results. Well, he did, but he was called on an emergency."

He looked down at her warmly, and asked, "Why did the doctor take your blood, Blair?"

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Do you know something I don't?" she said, her voice sharp.

"Do you know something you're not sharing with me?" he parried back.

Blair gasped. "You know something!"

"So do you," he said smugly. "And you weren't going to tell me about it."

Blair huffed, then pulled her hand from his. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know anything." She assessed him with her eyes, then noticed the loose tie around his neck. Blair reached out to touch it. She tugged it free. "Was this at least fixed when you presented to the board?"

"I was superb," he allowed.

"I knew you would be," she tossed aside.

"You would have been proud," he said softly.

"I didn't get to see it, but I still am," Blair assured him. "Did they give you the go signal?"

"They were all impressed by the time I finished. Your ideas were excellent. They stood out," he told her. Because really, to be honest, take away all the items that were hers, and the presentation would be an empty hollow shell. "Every time I mentioned something you cooked up, they would ask me to expound. By the time I showed them the total cost savings, then projected the profit margin, I think Farrar was creaming his pants."

She gave him a scowl of disgust. He kissed her nose.

"That wasn't the best part."

"It wasn't?" She chuckled. "What else happened?"

"They gave me the division to run."

She broke into a large smile. "So you're not just a face now. You're actually going to work!"

He chuckled, as if the last three weeks had not been the hardest work he had done in his life. "There's more."

"There's more? For only 19.99." She laughed at her own joke.

"It's the funniest thing, but my investor said something very intriguing."

"What?" she said breathlessly. He was close, so close to her their noses almost touched. "Chuck?" she prompted.

"Happy anniversary, Mrs Bass."

"Monthsary," she corrected him. Chuck saw the exact moment she realized what he meant, what he suspected. She drew back. "Do you think what I think you know?"

"Do I?" he pressed. "What do I think?"

"I'm getting irritated, Chuck," she warned him.

"Is it because you're moody?"

Blair gasped. "You do!"

And then he gave her a fat smile. "When did you suspect?" She flushed, embarrassed, he knew, because everyone thought Blair was organized, in control, handled everything to such precise perfection that nothing should be a surprise. He placed a hand low on her flat belly. "We've been so busy."

"This morning when you greeted me," she admitted. "I can't believe I didn't think about it. I'd been waiting to take my pills."

His tone softened even more. "Why didn't you tell me when I dropped you off?"

She paused, then cocked her head to the side. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I wasn't sure how you'd react. I mean, you said yourself if Serena was pregnant she'd want to jump off a building." Her fingers started fidgeting with his. To stop the nervous motion, he entwined her fingers with his. "And we know who actually has suicidal tendencies here," she said wryly.

His hand tightened around hers. "Give me one good reason I won't be happy about it." She lifted her cheek from his shoulder, then looked up at him. "One single reason why this wouldn't be the best day in my life."

Her eyes were brilliant as she searched his. She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself mute for words.

"I love you," he reminded her. "Why would I ever think twice about the prospect of having someone else in our lives who's a little bit of you and a little bit of me?"

She smiled, a shy one, and then nodded. "But don't get your hopes up, okay? If I'm not, you'll be crushed."

She was, of course, talking about herself, he thought. Only child syndrome and she was drumming up the call for a baby. The doctor finally returned, and he wanted to snap about the length of time it took him. After all, emergency or not, the Basses were supposed to be priority everywhere.

"Chuck, will you get me something to drink?" she asked prettily. Chuck eyed the chart in the doctor's hand. He scoffed at the request. "You're not going to get me a drink?"

"And have you find out before I do?"

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't a contest, Chuck!" she exclaimed. "And I'm gonna win this time. Besides, Lily found out about our wedding before my mom did."

Chuck scratched his head. "That again?"

"If there's real news, my mom will find out before your stepmom does."

"Why?" he demanded. "Not fair."

Blair jutted out her chin, then charmed the doctor with her smile. "Dr Edwards, don't tell him anything."

Chuck gave her an exasperated look. "I'm her husband," Chuck declared, feeling oddly triumphant being able to claim that.

"Don't believe him," Blair argued. "That's Chuck Bass." She grabbed her bag from the bedside table and drew out her wallet.

"Are you going to pay the man off, Blair?" Chuck asked with amusement. His laughter subsided when she held out her Constance ID card. "That's not updated," he protested.

"Miss Waldorf," the doctor began, clearly unsettled by the lunge and thrust between the two, "it's really up to you."

Hell. Chuck's ears burned when the doctor used Blair's maiden name. He was going to kill Serena for admitting her under Waldorf.

"Chuck Bass, go wait outside," she requested. By the time he returned to demand answers from her, she would have already sent the news to her mom, her dad and Dorota.

Chuck tightened his jaw, and drew out his wallet from his pocket. He flipped it open and held it out to the doctor. "Proof enough?"

"Mr Bass," the doctor started. "As much as I believe you now, it's not relevant. Doctor patient confidentiality still applies."

He turned to Blair, because obviously she bested him in this. Instead of triumph, he found her grinning and thrusting out her palm. "Give me it," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice. "What do you have there, Chuck?"

Reluctantly, he slapped the wallet on her hand. Blair eagerly looked at the proof he showed the doctor. It was a photo printout of one of their Gossip Girl-published wedding pictures running out of City Hall.

She looked up at him, blinking. "You keep a picture of us in your wallet!" she exclaimed.

Chuck snatched the wallet back from her. "I need it to grab snacks of the vending machine," he said. He gave her a sullen look, then turned to leave.

Blair caught his wrist to stop him. "My husband wants to hear it too," she sweetly told Dr Edwards.

"Your husband, huh?" Chuck said.

Dr Edwards sighed in relief, then turned to the young couple. Chuck smiled wryly. They barely looked eighteen, and normally he knew the doctor would be required to give options and advice counseling.

The rock on Blair's finger probably assured him that they were balanced.

"What's the verdict?" Blair prompted.

"You two are having a baby. Congratulations."

The doctor looked glum, sounded disappointed. Chuck was offended by his delivery. This was supposed to be one of those moments remembered forever. And Dr Edwards appeared like he delivered bad news.

"Dr Edwards, I'm Chuck Bass," he said clearly. "And this is Mrs Bass." Chuck paused. "We've got this covered."

It wasn't a statistical point against teen pregnancy. It couldn't be. They were Mr and Mrs Bass.

When the doctor left, he turned to Blair with a frown. "Blair Waldorf?" he said in irritation.

"Serena had to check me in as Blair Waldorf. That's in my ID. And that's the name on my insurance," Blair defended. Chuck would get on Serena's case about it too.

"We could've paid for it. Next time, just use Bass."

"It was easier to use Waldorf this time."

He was going to demand all her documents be transitioned to Bass. By tomorrow. He was going to make Gina run around the city making it happen.

"We're married. We don't change things just because it's easier."

Blair lowered her lashes, and almost immediately he crumbled. His back relaxed, and he walked over to her, tipped her chin up so he could look down her eyes. "This is perfect," he reminded her. "I'm inexplicably happy."

"You don't look it."

"I'm delirious."

She cracked a smile. "We're having a baby."

"We're having a baby!" he said louder.

She threw her arms around him. Chuck held her tightly in his embrace, then dropped kisses along her jawline. He heard the quick clicking of keys as she started texting. She was probably blasting it to her parents, Cyrus and Roman.

"Oh you two, I heard you from the corridor. I came straight from the meeting. Congratulations!"

Blair pulled out of his arms, then frowned at the sight of Lily eyeing them with glee. She turned to Chuck and asked, "How did you do that?"

Chuck shook his head. No explanation necessary. Everything was simply going his way today. He idly rubbed Blair's belly. Maybe because he had a lucky charm now.

She swatted his hand away playfully. "Chuck, it's not a magic lamp."

He bent down to kiss her on the belly. Blair ran her fingers through his hair, and then gripped a chunk when memory hit her.

"Yale!" she gasped.

tbc


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: **Some of your comments are really funny.

**Part 19**

_Our little Constance birdie comes to us with one bit of gossip, and it's all about the Queen B's spill we featured two days ago. Now I may not have been in Honors Math, but this is too simple to ignore. Seems like the new Mrs Bass has got something in the oven—or so we suspect. Since neither Mr nor Mrs Bass will be eager to make the announcement to us any time soon, your Gossip Girl is launching a brand new contest. Let's effectively devalue any pap shot of the big reveal by publishing the truth for free._

_My dear aspiring journalists, you are invited to send in proof that young Mrs Bass is pregnant. I declare that the race is on—baby bump watch 2009._

_Winner will get two front row tickets for any NYC concert you choose. You know you'll love it._

Despite his numerous text messages that she go straight home from school, Blair still dropped by his office with a big grin. Chuck looked up and smiled, even if she had just stubbornly ignored his request. His wife, after all, was her own woman, she had repeatedly insisted. She would do nothing he wanted unless she absolutely wanted it too. Even more, if she knew he wanted something, she would want to do it a little less.

Or so she said.

"Take you to lunch?" she said lightly.

He glanced down at the papers on his desk and checked the clock.

"You're busy," she gathered. Blair walked into the room and stopped behind him, then placed her hands on his shoulders. "Do you want me to leave?"

His pen clattered on the table with the speed with which he dropped it to grab her hand. "You're not going anywhere," he said. Chuck craned his neck and raised his lips for her to kiss. "Give me five minutes," he said.

"I'm feeling generous," she said, grinning against his mouth. "I'll give you seven."

"Very generous," he agreed. With a smirk, he turned back to the purchase requests on the table and compared them to the bidding contract. Chuck glanced to the side and watched Blair sit on the couch. There was a pile of magazines he had had Gina bring and it was sitting on the coffee table. Instead of reaching for them, her hand flew immediately to the report he had left there when he quickly dozed off earlier that afternoon.

"Stop watching me, Chuck. Finish your work so we can get out of here," she teased. "You're such a stalker."

He chuckled, shook his head, then turned back to the papers. He signed at the bottom of each one, then glanced back at her. This time, he saw her hand hover over the magazines that she finally noticed. She picked up one and settled back on the couch flipping through the pages of the latest issue Smart Parenting.

"Page 16," he called out.

She flipped the pages and then he heard her oooh. Chuck stood up then made his way to her. She looked up at him and exclaimed, "I love you!"

The words were like crack, so addicting and raw and went to his head so fast he was spinning. "For marking the page that features designer maternity clothing?"

She rose from the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You know it's for more than that." She looked down at the page. "We have to keep that here though. If my mom sees that she's going to strangle you."

"Ready-to-wear wedding gown, then ready-to-wear maternity clothes?" he ventured.

Blair nodded. "She would say you've cheapened my taste completely."

"The wedding gown was Monique Lhuillier!" he protested. "And that page has Armani and Posen and Gucci. It's not like it's The Gap."

Blair grinned. "So are you ready to be kidnapped, Mr Bass."

"Abduct me any time," he told her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, then kissed the tip of her nose. "How are you today?"

Before they left for school and work, she had run to the toilet twice and he had begged her to take a sick day. But she wanted to go to class because their apartment was apparently detestably boring without him. When he offered to take a personal day as well, she refused. He was, she said, the manager for their apartment building project.

"Very well. Thank you," she allowed. "I'm hungry for some Spanish cuisine." Blair closed her eyes, and Chuck took the time to kiss her lashes. "Paella," she recounted. "Callos."

His stomach growled. Chuck took her hand in his and pulled her along with him to the elevator. When they arrived at the lobby, he signaled to the security guard. The man radioed a command, then waved at Chuck. The limo was waiting in front. The Bass Industries security detail lined around the limo. Photographers starting snapping their pictures. Some of her classmates were also outside holding their phones out.

She rolled her eyes.

"They've been taking pictures of me even in class," she confided. Chuck frowned. He had read the Gossip Girl entry, had expected this much. "Mrs Kerrington already escalated the issue. No student is allowed to take pictures of me in school."

"Remind me to get her a gift," he said, pulling her closer as they made their way out of the building.

When they exited, one of the guards quickly opened the door. Chuck helped her inside the limo.

"Blair, are you pregnant?" one of the sophomores screamed.

"Chuck, you knocked her up already?" yelled one of the Nate's lacrosse teammates.

Chuck ignored the question and slammed the door shut. When they started driving, he turned to Blair, who was grinning at him from the opposite side of the limo. "This is fun for you?" he asked.

She nodded. Flashing him a giant smile, she said, "You're so cute trying to look irritated."

Chuck's eyebrows slammed together. "I'm not trying to look like anything!" he protested.

Blair made her way over to her husband, crawling along the seat. The limo slowed, and he immediately reached for her so she would not fall. Blair straddled him and sat on his lap. "You're trying to look irritated so no one would see how excited you are." Chuck's scowl vanished. "Daddy."

He flushed.

"It's okay to be excited, Chuck. I'm excited too."

"Really?" he said softly. She had tossed and turned the entire night, and he woke up to see her staring down at his one month anniversary present—an acceptance letter to Yale. "I'm so afraid you'll regret it."

She took his hand and held his palm against her abdomen. "It's really little. I can still go to school while you're out making a name for yourself. I have to keep busy right?" She nodded at her own question. "I'll only be sitting in class any way. And then you can send the limo to pick me up every weekend," she suggested.

It was like a long distance relationship with all the frills of being billionaires. "I can take the chopper and see you every two days during the week," he agreed.

"One semester, and then I'll take the next one off," she said. She had calculated everything while she looked down in dismay at her acceptance letter. "My due date will be around second semester. I'll be back right after summer break."

"Sounds like you have it all figured out," he murmured, bringing her lips down for a kiss.

She closed her eyes when she met his lips. When she raised her head, Chuck brushed his thumbs on her cheekbones. She opened her eyes. "I have to somehow keep up with a husband who's a CEO at eighteen, and has his own huge moneymaking, company-saving project."

"Couldn't have done it without you," he said pointedly.

"Of course you can't," she responded with a grin. "Without me it would've taken you twice as long to come up with something brilliant."

She was too kind. The best proposal he ever came up with was Victrola. And it was only a thousandth percent of this.

Correction.

Best proposal he ever came up with was handing her Lily's waiver and telling her he needed her to keep Bass Industries.

The profit margin there was through the roof.

Before he could say so, Blair gasped looking through the windshield. She called to the driver and the limo rolled to a stop. Blair opened the door and raised herself off her husband. Chuck followed close behind her and saw then standing on a strip of boutiques.

"Do you see that bag?" she bubbled. "It's very chic, isn't it?"

Chuck gave her a smile of delight. "You want it?"

"Brown will go with everything. Mud," she educated him, "can be paired with any outfit. But the black is so much more sophisticated."

"We'll get them both," he answered easily. He glanced at the bag again. "Isn't it a bit big for your books?" He didn't want her lifting anything too heavy, especially when she's away in college and he would not be there to watch over her.

He seriously considered setting up his operations in New Haven. He would need to be nicer to Farrar. Maybe the man could let him know what to consider in order to set up shop remotely.

"It's not a book bag, Chuck!" she exclaimed. "It's a diaper bag."

It was leather, he thought wryly.

"For urban moms," she said.

She was going to be an urban mom. He could not keep the heady grin from his face. In less than a year, the queen would be a mother.

Because of him.

He rocked his own world.

"And for urban dads," she added.

Damn. In less than a year he would have the chic leather diaper bag creasing his crisp suit while it hung on him like a messenger bag. And then, he thought, feeling his face grow painful, he would have a baby carrier wrapped around him while the baby slept against his chest.

"Let's buy one for you and one for me," he offered.

"And one for Dorota," Blair said.

He had committed to pirating Dorota from under Eleanor, but the older Waldorf woman had been stubborn. The baby was definitely going to be amazing leverage. "One for Dorota," he agreed. "But my kid better not talk back at me in Polish."

The black car behind them stopped as well, and two of his hired men got off. Blair turned to the front of the limo and saw another black car stop a few yards away. Two men in suits stepped out as well.

"Chuck?" she said uncertainly. His heart swelled when she reached for his hand at once.

Four vans stopped a few yards away, and out jumped a few of the men who had been waiting outside the company earlier. The limo driver had lost them briefly once, and here they were again.

The men in black, as what they would be known to her from then on, opened black umbrellas which she had not even noticed. They blocked the camera angle on them. Blair's eyes narrowed. "You got bodyguards even when I said no?" she demanded.

Chuck tightened his hand on hers and led her into the shop. "You're pregnant," he reminded her. "I'm not taking any chances, Mrs Bass." He pointed to the diaper bags then flashed his platinum card and gave their apartment address for the delivery.

They made their way back to the limo. Blair watched in awe as the four bodyguards closed their umbrellas and went back to their Mercedes.

"Tell me they're not joining us for dinner," she allowed. "Then I'll be good."

Chuck's lashes lowered. He pulled his wife up against his side. "I want to be alone with you."

They managed to secure a table for two as far away from the window as possible. He ordered off the menu, and enjoyed the chef coming out of the kitchen to glare at him only to end up being charmed. She enjoyed a blackened salmon and then he caught her staring at his steak.

"I'd cut up pieces of this for you but I'm afraid you'll bite my head off," he said jokingly, reminding her off the dinner with her two sets of parents.

Blair rolled her eyes, then used her own fork and knife to cut half of his steak and place it on her plate. His grin widened.

It was going to be a boy.

Chuck was surprised at the unexpected gesture she made next. Soon, he found his plate filled with half her salmon.

"We'll share," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Being married was good, he thought as he took one bite of her Norwegian salmon.

Her phone rang in the middle of dinner, and Blair turned off the ringer. The phone vibrated on the table. "Take it," he told her.

Blair put the phone on speaker and lowered the volume, so that Chuck could hear and only Chuck.

"Blair Waldorf, is there something you want to tell me?" he heard Eleanor's imperious voice on the other line.

Cyrus Rose could be heard crowing in the background. "So happy for you, darling!" the man said.

"Cyrus, hush! I can't hear my daughter."

Blair flushed. It had been two days, and she had been angling for the best opportunity to give the news to her parents. They had been invited to dinner Friday night, but apparently that was a little too late.

"When I asked you if you were pregnant, you denied it," Eleanor stated. "Did you lie? Did you think I'd judge you?"

"No!" Blair gasped.

"Because, frankly, sweetheart, I've suspected for a long time that that boy and you were having sex."

Blair's face reddened. Her eyes flew to Chuck. Chuck grabbed the phone and put it off speaker. He raised the handset to his ear. "Mrs Rose, Chuck here."

"Well, Charles, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Chuck reached for Blair's hand and squeezed it over the table. "I'm crowing like a rooster, with a smug grin on my face, and my chest is puffed up like a penguin," he answered. "And Blair's about five weeks along, Mrs Rose. It's a honeymoon baby."

He saw Blair's redness lighten into a pink flush. She managed a smile. She extended her hand, and he raised his brows in question. She nodded, and he placed the phone in her hand.

"Mom," she breathed.

Chuck sliced a piece of his steak and chewed on it.

"I know. Okay. I'll see everyone on Friday." She hung up the phone and dropped it in her bag.

"What do you know?" he prodded, after hearing only her side of the conversation. He could not say he distrusted Eleanor. After all, she was his mother-in-law. But somehow, when it came to Blair, someone had to keep tabs on the older woman. "What did she say?"

"About the honeymoon baby term," she said with a smile.

"What about it?" Chuck pushed. If Eleanor told Blair she did not believe her daughter was not knocked up before she got married, he would march in there within the hour and show her the pregnancy test results himself.

Again, the pink flush. "She said it was romantic."

And she knew.

Chuck grinned. "Good." She reached out with her napkin and wiped his chin. "How did she even know? Lily swore she wouldn't tell."

Blair shook her head with a sigh. "Gossip Girl. Apparently Dorota couldn't restrain herself."

Chuck could imagine the maid screaming around the house waving the phone around in glee.

The waiter came with a bottle of wine and offered them a glass each. He waved his hand. "I'll have water," he said. The waiter turned to Blair, and Chuck answered for her. "She'll have water too."

When the waiter left, Blair arched her eyebrow at him. "You don't need to. Have some wine. Have some scotch. I'm not exactly going to go through withdrawals, you know."

He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. "We're going to do this together."

Her lips curved. "I want to bet on how long you can keep this up."

That was a little offensive. "I can keep this up until you're allowed to drink."

"If I breastfeed, it'll be longer than a year," she warned him.

He grew scared for the first time. "A year?" he choked.

"Maybe even two."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're pulling my leg."

"I'm not." She crossed her arms across her breasts. "Are you backing down?"

Chuck scoffed. Was she crazy? "Why would I do that?"

"So you'll survive probably two years without alcohol?"

Chuck stuck out his hand. "Shake on it."

Blair shook her head and took his hand. "It's a deal."

Chuck gave her a firm handshake so that she would know he was serious. "So Friday night with your parents," he recounted. No wine, no champagne. "Saturday in Farrar's barbecue." No beer. He hated beer anyway. "Sunday at Lily's." None of his father's delicious stock of scotch.

One whole weekend of torture.

_So Ben489 sent us these snapshots of the lovely King and Queen canoodling in Madrileno last night. As he points out in his email, there are no wine glasses on the table. Good clue. No dice. _

_Contest is still on, people._

tbc


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: **Work is absolutely crazy this week. This is why I couldn't update as much. But I did update Footsteps yesterday so I am advertising it.

**Part 20**

"Delivery for you, Mrs Bass."

Serena squealed out loud. Blair fixed her best friend a scathing glare, all the while keeping her face stoic in the face of the intense pleasure overwhelming her at the sight of the brightly colored bouquet that the delivery boy held.

She held out her hands for the flowers and signed the acknowledgment slip. "I didn't think they allowed delivery people on campus," she commented lightly.

The boy nodded. "It's the first time I delivered here," he agreed. "But your husband made the arrangements."

Sure enough, the boy had tailing behind him one of Blair's bodyguards. "Jerry," Blair greeted pointedly. The burly man nodded at Blair, and consciously stepped back as if that action would allow him to fade into the background. She would not contest the bodyguards, she told Chuck, in one condition. They would not interfere with her normal, every day life. The only time they would inject their presence was if she was in imminent danger.

And because her husband was an intelligent young man, she had jumped on the deal.

This was not imminent danger, but she was blushing so furiously she let the appearance of Jerry's conspicuous form slide.

The delivery boy handed her a gift wrapped box. "Blair, this is the sweetest thing he's ever done!" Serena gushed. "I can't believe that he's this romantic."

Blair placed the box down on the table between her and Serena. All of them could be green with envy. "It's not," she said lightly, smugly. "In Italy our hotel room was filled with hundreds of candles and literally coated with petals."

With that, Blair drew the ribbons back and ripped away at the gift-wrapped box.

"What's the occasion?" Serena prompted.

Blair picked up the card that she almost discarded, then smiled a little. She read, "Thank you for the best gift I've ever gotten."

Serena's eyes grew wide. She looked around, then leaned forward. "What is it?" she whispered.

"I don't know, S," Blair replied pointedly. "That's why I'm ripping into it." Serena rolled her eyes. "I can still see you," Blair said sarcastically.

"I know you can. Why do you think I'm overplaying it?"

"Well stop it," Blair snapped. "You look ridiculous."

Serena chuckled. "You're such a bitch pregnant," Serena said in a hushed voice.

At that, Blair grinned proudly. "Well apparently I'm a bitch even when I'm not. I'm nothing if not consistent." She turned to the leatherbound box and declared, "Well, let's see what my husband thinks is worthy as a thank you for letting myself get knocked up."

"Maybe it's jewelry."

"He's done jewelry. But then again, he subscribes to the belief that a girl can never have too much."

"Lucky girl."

Blair uncovered the box and drew her eyebrows together at the large book inside. She picked it up and turned to the first page. In gold, embossed letters on the thick parchment, were the letters C and B. There were running golden curved lines underneath, and golden doves and flowers in the corners.

Serena gasped. "Oh my God! B!"

Blairs lips parted as she flipped to the next page. It was one blown up photograph of the two of them kissing on the step of City Hall. On the bottom, in the same gold ink, the date of their wedding and their names were written.

She turned to the next page, where snapshots of the day followed. It was a fairy tale, no matter how abrupt it had been, she thought as she looked at pictures of them running down the steps followed.

"It's a wedding album."

Only it wasn't, she thought as succeeding pages contained shots of their honeymoon. Paparazzi shots of their return also showed up.

"My brother, huh?" Serena said thoughtfully. "I can't believe it."

Chuck had mentioned it on the day they got married too. He had been planning it for a long time, and he finally put something together.

"I'm canceling tonight," Blair told Serena.

"Are you kidding?" Serena demanded. "Your mother would kill you."

Blair winked playfully at her. "Let her try. My husband is going to sic my bodyguards on her with the snap of his fingers."

Serena's gaze rose to the burly man whom Blair pretended was not following her around. Serena waved at the man, who did not acknowledge her greeting. Politeness, it seemed, was not the reason Chuck hired the big guys.

"Blair, you want to go to dinner at your mom's. They deserve to hear the news from the two of you in person," Serena insisted. "Why don't you want to go?" Serena inquired. "Is it because she thought you got pregnant before you got married?"

Blair dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Chuck took care of that."

"Then why?"

Blair sighed in exasperation. "Fine. Since you're so insistent about it." Blair picked up her new favorite book and hugged it to her chest. "I was planning to show Mr Bass how much I love his thank you gift."

The redness climbed from Serena's neck to her cheeks. Apparently, she had forgotten how much amusement and joy Blair took out of embarrassing her with how much she was willing to share about her sex life with her new, virile, handsome husband. Who happened to be her stepbrother.

"I'm assuming that you're not planning to throw him a surprise party then."

Blair gave her a cocky grin. And Serena did not have to wonder how her best friend got pregnant so easily, so quickly.

"Not unless the guests plan on being the one surprised when they walk into our living room," Blair answered.

"Ewww."

"You asked."

Serena shook her head. "You know I saw on tv that some women completely lose their sex drive when they get pregnant."

"I saw the same show!" Blair exclaimed. "But I distinctly remember the rest of the women say they couldn't get enough."

Serena shook her head and laughed. "A year and a half ago, who knew you would be this ecstatic with Chuck Bass?"

Blair certainly didn't. And she and Serena had had a spat over the fact that Blair was sleeping with Chuck Bass.

"So what will you do when Chuck leaves for his two-day business trip? Will you ask him to stay?"

Blair was offended by the suggestion. "I'd never ask him to cancel a business trip. He's a division head and a project manager. Do you know how long I've wanted him to show everyone what he's made of?"

Serena looked on at her friend, impressed. "That's amazing, Blair. Very mature of the two of you."

"I'm coming with him," Blair confessed.

~o~o~o~o~

"What's the turn around time for that?" Chuck said into the speaker phone.

The young attorney assigned to his request stuttered on the other end of the line. "We don't have a TAT, Mr Bass."

Chuck frowned. "How difficult is it to get all her documents changed to reflect my last name, Ellison?" he demanded. "Hell, my wife can do it herself if she lines up in a few government offices and fills out a few forms. But that's not why I'm paying you."

"It's a little more complicated than that, Mr Bass." The man coughed. "We ran into some unexpected issues with the documents."

It was because he was seventeen when he got married. Dammit. He should have just waited that last week, but then, it would have been one more week without her.

"Lily signed a permission for me to get married. If you're looking for it, I had a copy faxed to Ethan when he was drafting the prenup."

Ellison cleared his throat. "It's not that, Mr Bass."

Chuck grew impatient. "Then what are you wasting my time for?"

Again, the irritating clearing of the throat.

"Hand over the phone to Ethan right now," Chuck demanded.

Chuck cursed a hundred times before the more senior lawyer reached the phone. And the moment he was off the hold music, Chuck exploded, "What the hell is going on, Ethan?"

"Mr Bass, listen. We will resolve this issue as soon as we can. We are handling it."

"It's very simple, Ethan. I don't see what the problem is. I want my wife's passport, IDs and insurance named Blair Cornelia Bass. You have the marriage certificate, don't you?"

And even Ethan cleared his throat. Did they lack water down there?

"That's where the problem is, Mr Bass."

Chuck's chest tightened. "What do you mean?"

"We followed up on your marriage certificate for this process, Mr Bass. City Hall didn't send us one." Chuck's eyes narrowed as he listened. "It seems like they can't send us one because you didn't sign the marriage contract."

A pause. A long one.

"The hell I didn't."

"You signed the first page, Mr Bass. But not the second, where you were supposed to sign."

Blair was going to kill him.

Or worse. She was going to shrug it off and consider it a lucky break. She could go to Yale without being tied to him.

"How did you not see it sooner, Ethan?"

"It's very fortunate, actually."

"And from what ass did you pull that from?"

"From the very real possibility of your losing the company, sir. Seems like the prenup you two signed was not the final draft."

Who the hell cared about the prenup?

Chuck thought quickly. "Bring me the marriage contract. I'll sign it now. File it. Then we can get the marriage certificate."

"It doesn't work like that, Mr Bass. You and Ms Waldorf will need to go back to City Hall and sign together. It will be a fresh new contract, the dates will reflect the day you sign."

Eleanor was right. He knocked her up before he married her.

And he was the one who made this mess.

"I have to think. And you two, Ethan. Think of a way to fix this before Blair finds out."

Chuck pushed the red button on the speaker phone to hang up on his overpriced lawyer. He pushed the quick memory button and waited for Blair to answer. While the phone rang, he tensed up in his seat. Finally, she answered the call.

He forced himself to relax. "How are you, Mrs Bass?" Because really, even with the insanity of his discovery, and the day filled with planning and real work that made him suddenly inadequate, he could not forget that he had a pregnant wife—wife, no matter what documents City Hall would not furnish—at the end of it all.

"Hey, Mr Bass! I got your gift. And I love it so much," her voice dropped, "that I want you to come home right now so I can show you."

The playful flirtation over the phone served to be more de-stressing than the bumbling assurances of his two hundred thousand a year lawyer. Finally, his lips curved and he settled back in his seat. "How will you show me?"

"Are you sure this isn't wiretapped? I would hate for this to be in the internet."

He chuckled. "Are you home already?"

"Almost," she answered. "And I'm hungry."

"I'm sure Eleanor had Dorota prepare something you'll love. They're going to want to feed you a lot now that we've confirmed it."

"That would be very strange to see my mom wanting to see me eat."

She did not sound upset about recalling her battle with her mother, the root of her early insecurities. And he puffed up with pride knowing that the newfound confidence stemmed partly from the fact that she had him. "I love you," he said softly. And then he continued, "Even before you were Mrs Bass, I loved you."

He heard her smile over the phone when she said, "I know. But I love this more. I'll see you in a few minutes?" she chirped. "That way we can have plenty of us time before we need to go to mom's."

"Alright, Mrs Bass. I'll be right there."

Chuck waited for Blair to hang up the phone, then advised Gina to have the car brought around.

"Mr Bass, Mr Farrar is bringing two of our European division VPs over to your office now to discuss the possibility of expanding your project to four EU countries."

Chuck scratched his head. "And when are they leaving?"

"They're flying back home on the 7am tomorrow, sir."

Chuck sighed. "Right. Just send them in when they arrive." He dialed Blair's number. "It looks like I'll be late tonight, Mrs Bass. Why don't I send the limo for you and I can meet you there?"

The disappointment in her voice made him feel even guiltier. He suspected this would be only just the beginning of the long string of disappointments he would give her. He hoped he was wrong.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She sighed. "It's alright," she said, in a way that said it was not.

tbc


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: **This is starting to feel like a neverending story, eh? I cannot believe it's taking this many parts. And there's still a lot more, it seems. Lynnie and I were brainstorming a couple of weeks ago about things that can happen and I'm only just starting to touch the fruits of that labor. Who knew there was going to be so much to say after 'I love you' and 'I do?'

**Part 21**

"Blair, sweetheart!"

Blair happily greeted Cyrus, and was not surprised when the short man pulled her down for a bear hug. She patted Cyrus' back and then turned to her mother, who smiled and gestured towards the dining room. Eleanor glanced behind Blair, then frowned.

"Where's Charles, Blair? Isn't he coming?"

Blair glanced down at her watch, then frowned. "He said he'll be a little late. He had unexpected guests."

Cyrus nodded in understand, then patted Blair's hand hooked in his. "That's the life of a CEO, Blair."

Eleanor arched her eyebrows. "That's the life of a CEO's wife," she corrected. Offhandedly, she waved towards the table. "Your father's decided to surprise you."

Blair's eyes widened, and she unhooked her arm from Cyrus' then raced to the dining room. Sure enough, her father was there uncovering a dish that looked as if it had been made especially for her. Harold turned and smiled widely at his daughter.

"There's my baby girl."

"Daddy!" Blair exclaimed, throwing her arms around Harold and squeezing her eyes tightly shut to feel the embrace with her whole being.

"Hello, honey. Roman couldn't come today. He has a direct a photoshoot. But he's asked me to give you a kiss." Blair smiled as Harold kissed her on the forehead.

Harold pulled up a chair for Blair, and she sat on it, as Eleanor and Cyrus took their places on opposite ends of the table.

"Your husband just called," Eleanor informed Blair. "He's sent his apologies. Looks like Charles will not be able to make it to dinner."

Blair gasped. "He didn't tell me."

"He said he's been calling you."

She had been falling asleep so much lately, she would understand if she had slept through his calls. She checked her phone and saw the missed calls and the messages.

Blair excused herself and called Chuck. "Hey. I'm sorry I missed your calls."

"How are the parents?" Chuck asked quietly. In the background she could hear people talking.

Blair realized she was intruding on his meeting. "I'll tell you all about it at home."

"Blair," Chuck said. "How do you feel about Europe over the weekend?"

"Are you going to abandon me again?" she teased. It was Farrar's barbecue. Of course Chuck would take any opportunity to leave, and it was only bonus points that he could do so in the guise of helping out Bass.

"You're sticking by me one way or another. Come on, Mrs Bass. Join me. I need to present your marvelous ideas to the Bass EU."

"Alright, Chuck. I'll be there."

She then made her way back to the table.

"He's very busy now, isn't he?" Eleanor prompted. "How many hours does he spend in the office?"

And it made Blair grin, because Eleanor sounded, as much as it was possible for Eleanor, impressed. "Not so many hours that we don't spend any time together," Blair answered.

Harold winked at his daughter, because she had texted him from the hospital. After all, Harold lived far away and she had wanted him to know immediately.

Cyrus clasped his hands together. "Well?" he said, waiting for her confirmation.

"Yes," she said. She had wanted to announce it with Chuck beside her, but her husband apparently had very different priorities that night.

"Really?"

"We're going to have a baby."

"Oh my God!" Eleanor exclaimed, even if she had been eighty percent certain with Dorota's squealing. "I'm a grandmother." And then she grimaced, "To a Bass!"

"Mom!" Blair complained. "I'm a Bass."

Eleanor reached out a hand and patted Blair's. "You're a Bass, but only in name. My grandchild will be half that boy. I'm going to have gray hair."

Cyrus shook his head. "We can afford hairstylists, Eleanor. Don't worry about it."

"You knew about it?" Eleanor demanded from Harold.

"Blair texted me," Harold said proudly.

"And you didn't text me? Or call me? For heaven's sake, Blair, your phone bills still arrive on my doorstep."

She kept herself from rolling her eyes. Chuck was working on her documents, and she would ask him to take care of getting her bills routed to their apartment as well. He was handling everything so responsibly she was beginning to understand how much potential was in him that Bart never got around to see blossom.

"He lives in another country, mom," Blair argued. "Basides," she flushed, "Chuck and I got distracted before I could call you."

Blair reached for the dish, and Cyrus eagerly scooped for her plate. "Young love," she chortled.

Eleanor's lips thinned. "I'm just glad Charles seems to be sticking around. Very out of character, but very good for you."

"You did say I could make it last forever, didn't you, mom?" Blair said.

Eleanor sighed. "My baby is having a baby. And I'm not even forty five and already I'm going be a grandmother."

"Nana Nellie." Then Cyrus laughed at his own joke.

"I can strangle you," Eleanor said gently to her husband.

"It's young love, Eleanor," Harold commented. "I'm sure you remember."

Blair's gaze turned from her father to her mother. Eleanor gave Harold a wry stare. "Don't remind me." She had, after all, married a man who loved other men.

"No, no," Cyrus offered. "Young love. That's right. I envy you, sweetheart," Cyrus said to Blair. "Young love is beautiful. I myself had a young love, married her at eighteen."

Blair bit her lip. "Ummm, not a good example, Cyrus."

"Why? Because we eventually drifted apart?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No, darling. Because you went to war and cheated on her by falling in love with someone else."

Cyrus nodded. "We drifted apart; w had such different lives. I was caught in this war, and she was home, in the lap of luxury. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have wished her any pain." And then he shrugged. "But life happened to us. But when we loved, it was grand!"

"I know what you mean," Harold murmured.

"Oh for the love of God, Harold, if you talk about us drifting away when you fell for my male model—" Eleanor warned.

"I'm not," he assured Eleanor. To Cyrus, he narrated, "My first love was a girl from high school. And it was crazy, intense. We felt like we could rule the world."

"Isn't it always like that," Cyrus agreed.

"And then one day, I went away to law school and she stayed behind. The day I came back with so many stories and she told me all about the same old places, the same old people, she could see it my eyes."

"Life happened," Blair concluded.

"But that's not going to happen to you, Blair," Eleanor told her daughter. "You're sharp and you can keep up."

"He may be CEO of Bass Industries, but you're a Yale girl," her father said. "You're not going to fall behind in the same old things. You'll never get boring, or stale, or predictable. You're Blair Waldorf."

Blair smiled. "Bass," she added.

"You're Blair Waldorf-Bass. You'll evolve with him."

"Alright," Harold said, clapping his hands. "Here's some pie fresh from the oven. Your favorite, to celebrate the new member of the family." He looked pointedly at his ex-wife. "Half Bass or not."

It was pretty illogical how the sight and scent of the apple pie sent bile rising to hr throat. Blair clapped her hand over her mouth, then rushed out of the dining room. At the sight of her charge looking gray, Dorota opened the door for her and led her towards the bathroom. She barely made it to the sink when she spewed everything she had eaten.

"Miss Blair, it okay," Dorota soothed her.

She blinked away the tears that rose to her eyes when she started vomiting. Dorota grabbed a clean hand towel and handed it to her so that Blair could blot out her eyes. "I feel like crap, Dorota!" Blair complained.

"Well you vomit and you cry and you scream at Mister Chuck. End of it you have pretty bouncing baby."

And at seven, she wanted a houseful of baby dolls, pretended to be the mommy of every last plastic, porcelain or cotton one.

Blair excused herself and shut the door after ushering her maid out of the bathroom. She pulled up and dress and pushed her panties down. Blair frowned at the sight. She put her underwear back in place, then took deep, calming breaths. She took her phone from her pocket and hit the top of her speed dial.

The phone rang for a long time, but eventually Chuck answered trying to catch his breath.

"Mrs Bass."

"Hey," she said gently. She had not wanted to disrupt his work, but they had talked at length about his expectations. "When can you get out of the office?"

"I might not make it to dinner at all," Chuck said. "Do you need me?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

Blair could hear the slight change in his voice. "Is there something wrong?"

"I'm sure it's nothing. I'm not in pain," she told him. "But I saw blood on my panties. Just a little."

"I'll be right there." He paused for a thought. "No. I should meet you at the hospital. You should be on your way there right now. Tell your mom. I'm calling the driver to tell him where to take you." Chuck breathed harshly. "I swear I'll be right there."

"Okay," she said, her voice small.

"Hey."

"Uhuh?"

"I love you."

She breathed in deeply. "I love you too."

She hung up the phone. Blair pulled the door open to see Dorota standing there with concern in her eyes. Blair gave her maid a tight smile.

"What wrong, Miss Blair?"

"I need to sit down," she told Dorota. Blair maneuvered her way to the brand new sofa. She hoped there was no stain, or her mother would never forgive her. Dorota supported her by her elbow, and gingerly deposited her on the sofa. "Get mom."

Dorota hurriedly rushed to the dining room, only to emerge a minute later with Eleanor in tow. Eleanor met Blair's fearful eyes. Eleanor's own phone rang. "It's Charles," she said to Blair. She answered the phone, and could not get a word in. As she listened, she strode towards her daughter. Finally, she hung up the phone and placed it on the table beside her. She sat. "How much is it?"

"Just drops," Blair answered.

"Alright. Charles has sent the limo for us, but I think it's easier to take Cyrus' town car. Let's go."

The trip to the hospital, along with the subsequent waiting, was torture. But she kept her calm, like what Chuck wanted. She sat on her hospital bed like any good patient surrounded by three parents, and squeezed her mother's hand when they took some blood for an hCG test.

It was only when Chuck arrived, looking peeved at whatever caused his delay, did she allow herself to burst into tears, surprising both Harold and Eleanor. Eleanor clutched at her chest. "Where does it hurt?" she demanded, because her daughter did not just burst into tears at the drop of a hat.

Blair buried her face in Chuck's shirt, then shook her head frantically. Chuck wrapped his arms tightly around her.

The doctor returned, and Eleanor demanded to know what was wrong.

"We need to do an ultrasound so we can see if there's any threat of a miscarriage," the doctor informed Eleanor.

"She's a month pregnant."

Harold reached for Eleanor's arm. "Is Blair otherwise safe?"

"Yes she is."

"Come on, Eleanor," Harold urged. "Let's leave Chuck and Blair to take care of this. This is their pregnancy."

Chuck nodded, gave a grateful but tense smile to his – he couldn't even say father-in-law then.

Eleanor reluctantly left, but reminded Chuck to call her anytime they needed her. When Blair's parents were gone, Chuck placed a kiss on the top of her head. Blair raised her tear-streaked face. "I was so scared."

"I'm right here," he assured her, as if his presence would affect the results of their test

He was Chuck Bass, and this was his wife, and they would get the best treatment possible in a hospital that was built partly on Bass donations. Soon enough, an ultrasound machine was rolled into the room instead of transferring Blair elsewhere.

"Mr and Mrs Bass, we are going to insert a probe to listen for the baby's heartbeat."

Blair squeezed her eyes shut.

"It should hurt," the doctor assured her.

Chuck gritted his teeth. "Can't we do it over the abdomen?"

"It's too early in the pregnancy to hear anything that way. Really, even a transvaginal ultrasound might not give us the results we want."

Blair sighed, held onto Chuck's hand. "Let's get it done. I want to know."

Chuck stared the doctor out of the room before helping her out of her fresh panties. He winced when he saw the brown and pink discharge that stained them.

"There's more?" she asked quietly.

"Very little," he told her. Chuck folded the undergarment and set it aside so that she would not worry. He walked over to the head of the bed and dropped a kiss on her lips.

Chuck called the doctor back in. Blair gingerly settled back on the bed and grew red when the doctor asked her to spread her legs and pushed her hips up with a small bolster pillow. He held Blair's hand when the doctor inserted the probe. Blair flinched. "There will be discomfort, Blair. You can get through this."

Chuck stared at the sonogram image as if he could understand it. Blair swallowed as the probe moved.

"Is it still there?"

"Here." The doctor pointed to the uterus and the sac, barely recognizable to her. Then she continued, "I can't find a heartbeat."

Blair drew a shuddering breath. She felt Chuck's hand tighten around hers. He did not look at her, but his eyes looked moist as he stared at the image on the screen.

"We usually need to wait until the baby is about six weeks before we can find the heartbeat."

Chuck released the breath he had been holding. He brought her hand up to his lips. Blair did not hide her tears. She pulled him down and kissed him.

"So far, there is no miscarriage. But I want you to come back for a hCG test every three days until we determine your levels are progressing well."

"We're going to Europe," Blair contested. She looked up at Chuck, who regarded her quietly.

She wasn't going.

"I've reviewed your medical history, Blair."

At the words, Blair straightened on the bed.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but you have a very high risk pregnancy. I would advise you to stay close to home."

"Medical history," Chuck repeated. He placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "What does she mean?"

Blair did not answer. Instead, she focused on what the doctor said. "So I can lose my baby?"

"You are at high risk."

"Because of—that?"

"I'm sorry, Blair."

Blair turned to look at the frozen image on the screen, with the squiggles and clouds and lines that couldn't possibly be a baby. She pulled her hand out of Chuck's. She placed a protective hand over the nonexistent swell of her belly. "So I did it?"

"It's not your fault, Blair." The doctor looked up at Chuck, who appeared confused by the turn of events. "Mr Bass, I suggest that your wife start seeing Dr Jacobs again." To Blair, she advised, "I need you to take it easy, Blair. I know you want to keep this pregnancy, so you're going to rest. No stress."

tbc

PS Was supposed to be longer but my eyes are crossing already… so sleepy.


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: **I would like to say, very proudly, that we have just welcomed into our family a beautiful baby girl named Tasha. She's my niece. And it is a coincidence that Chair had a daughter named Tasha in Pathways Through the Apple. I highly doubt my sister reads Chair fanfic. Tasha was born yesterday and is an absolute charmer (one day old and she's a pretty loud screamer when hungry).

**Part 22**

"Are you sure?" he asked again, sighing.

Blair eyed her husband, who was reluctantly tightening his tie. His briefcase was on the coffeetable beside her, right along with about half a dozen stress balls he had offered her the morning after they came home form the hospital. She had told him she did not need stress balls, and that she had no stress at all. After all, she was a newlywed, and she had no doubt he absolutely loved her.

Why would she need stress balls?

Up until she saw the Gossip Girl blast that declared a winner in the Baby Bump Watch 2009. The announcement had been inevitable, and even though she and Chuck preferred to have made it on their own time, it had not been such a shocker that Gossip Girl would take it upon herself to post a snapshot of her medical chart. And if it would not stress her even more, she was sure Chuck would have sued the entire hospital.

Confirmation. Blair could almost hear the glee in Gossip Girl's voice as she became the first 'journalist' to break the news.

But that did not make her reach for her stress balls. What finally made her reach for a purple one was the snapshot of herself and Chuck leaving the hospital and walking towards their waiting limo.

_Queen B's getting baby chubby._

And the wide red circle over her nonexistent bump made the argument a tad ridiculous. Since getting married and knocked up, Blair had lost two pounds.

She squeezed the purple ball over and over with increasing intensity. And then, she reached for a green one for her other hand.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mr Bass," she answered tartly. And then she paused. "Oh but did you call Dorota?"

He nodded, smirked. "She'll be here in half and hour and staying with you all two days I'm gone."

Blair let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

She folded her hands over her belly. Chuck nodded and walked over to the coffee table to pick up his briefcase. A ball thudded against his cheek. He turned to her in exasperation. "Would you stop it?"

"Sorry. It was the only way I could retaliate."

Chuck sighed, then sat on the coffee table. "If you need to retaliate, that means you're mad at something."

"Don't tell me how I feel!" she snapped. Even then, she could recognize she was being slightly unreasonable. Very very slightly.

"Right," Chuck muttered. "You're perfectly okay with this."

She pouted, then told him, "You get to have fun in Europe while I stay here getting baby chubby."

"You know that Gossip Girl is talking out of her ass. You're beautiful!"

"What made you say ass?" Blair gasped. "Oh my God, you're fixated on my giant ass. And I'm on bed rest, probably sitting on my growing ass for the next few weeks!"

Chuck picked up her hand. She struggled to pull it away initially, but he held fast. "Look at me." She did, with her eyes brimming. Chuck enfolded her hand in his. "Is this—" he hesitated. "Is this a mood swing?"

Blair growled low in her throat, then jerked her hand away and reached to pick up two more balls then hit his chest with them.

"That's okay," he replied soothingly. "That's what they're there for."

The bell rang, and Chuck called out for Dorota to enter. Dorota gave him a timid smile, then waved to Blair.

"Dorota, you're here!" Blair exclaimed. "Good. Now this," she turned her nose up at Chuck, "can leave."

"You don't mean that," Chuck replied.

"Go and have your European fun. I should have known," she said. "First you invite me to Tuscany, and then you abandon me. Now this."

That seemed to genuinely hurt him.

And Blair was just… pleased.

Chuck massaged his temples with his fingers. He sighed, then faced her somberly. "I made your appointment with Dr Jacobs. We'll go the moment I land, okay?"

Blair turned her gaze away. She jammed her hand underneath her body and felt for the remote control. She turned on the tv. Chuck stood up and turned the tv off from the set itself. She tried to power it on again, but it no longer worked with the power placed on hard off.

Finally, she said, "I'd rather go without you."

"I looked him up. I know what he does."

"It doesn't matter," Blair told him. "It was a long time ago."

Dorota puttered in the kitchen, and Blair sat up and glanced towards her maid. She was the one person who knew everything.

"When did it start?"

"Why do I have to talk about it with you?" she asked. "I talked to Dr Jacobs. We thought he fixed me. And now I have to go through this because of that stupid disease."

"Miss Blair, you tell Mr Chuck," Dorota interjected as she placed a glass of milkshake on the space cleared of the stress balls.

Blair reached for the glass. Within moments, Chuck had it in his hands and was wrapping it with thick tissue so that it would not be too cold when she held it. Blair accepted the glass, then admitted, "When my dad left. And I couldn't ever make my mom happy. I couldn't make Nate happy."

A piece of quiet.

She finished, "No matter what I did."

Chuck understood. It was the very thing he noticed in those little moments when he turned his attention from Nate to the girl always standing beside him, beside him. Strong and ready for anything. Except sometimes he saw her desperation. Sometimes she cried when no one else was looking. When she thought no one else was looking.

It was such a simple thing, what she needed. At least, that was what Chuck thought. Such a simple thing and Eleanor never did it. Nathaniel never did it. And it was Chuck's turn to say it, his responsibility, his role. He told her, "You make me happy. I want you to know that."

And then a brief, almost hesitant smile. "I know."

With him, there was no question—not anymore at least. "Because you love me," she said. Chuck grinned widely, then nodded.

"I'll never love anyone else, except for the baby." In that split second, he made his decision. "I'm not going to Europe."

"You can't do that, Chuck," she replied rationally.

"In your condition, I would rather be here with you."

"You're the young buck in the office," Blair pointed out. "And you're proving yourself to the board."

"The hell with the board. I own the damn company."

Blair placed her hand over Chuck's. "That project was our first baby. Yours and mine. You own a failing company that's currently losing more than it's earning. Show them it's Mr and Mrs Bass that saved them, Chuck."

"Let me send someone else."

"Will you trust your baby to some stranger?"

He smirked. "Just to Dorota. And I doubt she'll want to go to Europe to go through the project details with a bunch of stuffy old men."

Dorota huffed while she picked up the fallen balls.

Eventually, she was able to convince her husband to do his duty. The thought made her grin. It was almost like she was sending him off to war. She imagined herself in a more contemporary film, like she was a World War II fiancé waving goodbye to her pilot as he boarded his fighter plane near Pearl Harbor.

Boredom drove her to the home shopping network. She scoffed at the beaded sweaters and painted plates. Irritated with the products she saw, she asked Dorota for her laptop. On her post in the couch, she surfed to the shopping websites until she eventually found designer labels. Maternity ones. She would buy boxes of them, because no matter how much anyone defined for her what high risk pregnancy was, and how extremely dangerous it was to raise one's hopes, she was not going to let them keep her from preparing.

"What do you think of this one, Dorota?"

Her maid peered at the selection over her shoulder, then pointed to a couple of dresses. "Mr Chuck will like." And then Dorota frowned at the shoes. "You pick flat shoes, Miss Blair. High heels not good for baby."

Blair chuckled, feeling humorous at the same time. "They're not for the baby, Dorota!"

"Miss Blair!"

Blair shook her head, giggling. She scanned the page, then picked up a particularly comfortable looking pair. "What do you think?"

"Better choice for pregnant women. Easy on calves."

Blair processed her payment, and was surprised at the registration name on the screen. She picked up her phone and dialed her credit card company. She entered her password, then waited for the support person to answer.

"This is Blair Bass. I'm calling to follow up on the change of address and name on my account." Blair repeated her card number and verification code. "That's Blair Bass. Name on the account is Blair Waldorf. And I need to change the delivery and mailing address."

Blair was placed on hold, then was taken aback by the explanation. She thanked person on the other end of the line, then called Bass Industries' legal department.

The lawyer who had joined her and Chuck in the City Hall was out of the office. Instead, she was passed to a junior partner who worked on Chuck's request for her.

"Do you know why the credit card company is telling me that you haven't submitted the request change my name and address? Weren't you supposed to send that in?"

"Miss Waldorf—"

"That's Mrs Bass," Blair corrected him. "And where is Ethan?"

"Ummm." The lawyer cleared his throat. "Mrs Bass, we couldn't send it in. You and Mr Bass aren't technically married."

Blair licked her lips, searching for words. "What's your name?"

"Ellison, ma'am."

"Ellison," Blair started, her voice low. "You are so fired."

Blair hung up the phone, then swung her legs over the couch and to the floor. "Dorota!" she yelled. Dorota had only been a few feet away, and started at Blair's voice. The maid straightened and hurried over to Blair. "We're going out," Blair pronounced.

"Miss Blair," Dorota protested. "Bed rest should be lie down in bed." And then she shrugged at the couch. "Maybe sofa."

"Absolutely not," Blair insisted. "I feel fine." She picked up her phone. Blair searched for her stepmother-in-law's number in her contact list. "Lily, I need Ethan's number. His staff is incompetent."

"What are you talking about, Blair? Are you panting?"

"I'm pissed off!" Blair cried into the phone.

"Honey, is Chuck gone?"

"Yes," Blair bit out. "If the Basshole was still here, I wouldn't need to call you for some Bass Enterprises employee."

"What's wrong, Blair?" Lily asked, her voice soothing, trying to calm down her daughter-in-law. "Let me help you fix it. You're not supposed to be stressed out."

"Too late!" Blair snapped. She checked herself in the bathroom, released a sigh of relief when she was clean. "Dorota, get me some water."

Dorota hurried to the hand Blair the water when her charge exited from the bathroom. Blair drank the entire glass, then walked to the bedroom to pick up her bag.

Lily must have heard the movement, even the zipper of her Chanel bag.

"Blair, where are you going?"

"To fix this."

"Blair, I am asking you to put down the bag and to lie down in the bed."

"Text me Ethan's number, Lily, or his house is going to be one more place I go to when I'm not supposed to leave."

"Lie down."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately for you, Lily, I only lie down for one person."

"Oh God," Lily mumbled. "I'm calling your mother."

"Great," Blair snapped. "Now the two of you figure out how the hell I ended up knocked up, out of school, and not even married to Bass!" Blair hung up the phone. "Dorota, we're leaving!"

~o~o~o~o~

He noticed the missed calls only when the helicopter landed in the tarmac. Blair, he thought before he saw the number. Calling for one last sweet goodbye before his plane left. Chuck jogged up the steps of the private plane. When he fastened his seatbelt, he saw that it had been Lily.

"Yes?"

"Chuck! I'm so relieved I caught you."

Chuck smirked, then offered, "I called you back, Lily."

"Right. Chuck, what is Blair so upset about?"

"I took care of it." Chuck laughed softly, remembering the small spat he had when Blair was upset about being cooped up while he partied in Europe. Partied, of course, being the term her hormonal mind tagged flying in, presenting then immediately flying out. "She was understandably bummed about being left at home."

Barefoot and pregnant if only she did not have several dozens of shoes ranging in cost from fifteen hundred to six grand.

"It doesn't sound taken care of."

So his wife called Lily telling on him. He was going to adore the next few months if her mood swings made her prim and controlled façade evaporate.

"She was demanding to talk to Ethan and telling me that the two of you aren't married?" Lily said. "Why would she think thart?"

Chuck froze. He looked out the window and saw the runway speeding out from under them. He unsnapped his seatbelt, then called to the pilot. "Stop the plane now. We're not leaving."

tbc


	23. Chapter 23

**Part 23**

Dorota opened the door and ushered in Eleanor, who sighed at the sight of her daughter hyperventilating on the sofa. Blair looked up at her mother and blinked. "I can't breathe," Blair gasped.

"You're doing this to yourself," Eleanor told her daughter matter-of-factly. Blair glared at her like she had been betrayed. "Oh for God's sake," Eleanor exclaimed. "Dorota, get a paper bag."

The maid nodded and hurried out of the room.

"Mom, why are you being like this?"

Eleanor waited until Dorota arrived. She took the paper bag and handed it to Blair. "Breathe into that."

Blair thrust the bag in front of her and followed her mother's instructions.

"You need to calm down." Eleanor shook her head. "Is it true that you yelled at Lily? I mean, really, Blair." Her mother's voice, familiarly telling her about her disappointment, was somewhat soothing. "I thought you had better manners than that."

And who would have known, but she eventually started getting more oxygen in her head. Blair removed the bag from her nose and mouth. She blinked up at her mother. "I'm not married!"

Eleanor nodded, then sat down on the couch with Blair. "What did your husband say?"

"Don't you mean the asshat who made me think we were married?" Blair replied.

The commotion by the door got Blair's attention. She turned to see Harold making his way into the living room. "Daddy!" Blair called out, in her most pitiful voice.

Eleanor waved her ex-husband away. "I'll take care of it, Harold."

Blair gave her mother a wide-eyed look. "I need legal advice," she argued.

"Honey, the last thing you need right now is legal advice."

Harold barged in and stood by Eleanor. "Then she'll need what I'm actually here for, Eleanor. I'll be a father."

"Oh fine," Eleanor decided.

"What's wrong, baby girl?"

"One of his lawyers told me that Chuck and I aren't legally married." She shook her head. "How is that even possible? I was right there with him. We signed the papers and everything. And why would Chuck even lie to me."

Harold narrowed his eyes. "As far we know, the lawyer has some inaccurate information. It's possible, you know." He held up his hand, and then pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Five minutes," Harold said, then walked to the corner of the room.

Meanwhile, Eleanor focused on her daughter. "This is rather irresponsible of you, Blair."

"Because I got lied to?" Blair gasped. "Mom, I can't believe you're going to blame this on me."

"No," Eleanor insisted firmly. "This was an unfounded charge and you're already breaking your bedrest, stressing yourself enough that you start hyperventilating, and charging to my apartment instead of waiting for your husband to explain."

"Mom, I think you like Chuck."

Eleanor gave a slight smile. "Charles has shown some staggering improvements since you married him."

"Well, it turns out we're not married."

"That's not the point, Blair." Eleanor crossed her legs, then asked, "Why did you agree to marry Charles anyway?"

Blair folded her arms over her chest. "Because he was pathetic and he tricked me into it by saying he was going to lose the company."

"And love had nothing to do with it?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Blair replied.

"Which means you loved him."

"Everyone knows I love Chuck," Blair said quickly. "That's not the issue. I could love him without marrying him."

Eleanor gave her a small smile. Harold made his way back to the two ladies who made part of his family, then shook his head. "Apparently, Chuck missed signing the last page of the marriage contract. You're right, honey. Technically, you and Chuck are not married."

Blair's eyebrows furrowed. Her hand went to her abdomen. "My half-Bass is a Basstard. Oh God. That's what everyone would call it if they find out. I can just see the Gossip Girl blast!"

"If they try, you just know Charles is going to sue them."

"Nobody sues Gossip Girl, dad," Blair said acidly. "Nobody knows Gossip Girl."

"We're getting off track," Eleanor interjected. She motioned to Harold to sit down. She turned to Blair. "So now you know for sure. And sweetheart, it sounds like an honest mistake."

Blair pouted. "His honest mistake doesn't fix this entire thing."

"And you think leaving him will?" Blair did not answer. "Would you have married him if he asked you outright, without his making up the story about the company?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I was mad at him. I only agreed because he looked so pathetic with all the crap he'd pulled. Even if he did step all over me."

"Is he still pathetic now?" Eleanor asked.

Blair glared at her mother. Did Eleanor not just establish how much better Chuck had been since the not-exactly-a-wedding. "Absolutely not! He's so great at what he's doing." She wanted to add how handsome he always looked in his office formal, and how much she wanted to jump him all the time. But that did not seem relevant to the conversation, and would likely give her mother a heart attack.

Her father might agree though. And that would give Blair a heart attack.

It was Harold who went right to the point. "Do you still want to be married to him?"

"What?" she mumbled.

"Well, so far we've established that he's not going to lose the company," Eleanor summarized. "And he's not pathetic. And now you're free. You have a choice not to marry him."

"I'm pregnant with a half-Bass!"

Eleanor motioned dismissal with her hand. "We'll take care of it."

"I'm not getting rid of it, mom."

"Of course not. You two can stay with me." When Blair scowled, Eleanor amended, "Fine, your dad. Or we'll get you a place of your own."

Blair sighed. "No," she said softly.

"No?"

"No."

"Then can you get over whatever this was?" Eleanor prompted. "Face the problem. You and Charles are not married. And you're having a baby."

Harold stood up, and placed a kiss on her temple. "Talk it through. He might have been stupid enough to miss signing one page of that contract, but he was smart enough to know the best thing he could do was to trick you into marrying him."

Blair mulled over the words. Knowing how Chuck had been the last few weeks, he was bound to be frantic now.

"Mom, dad, I really need your help."

~o~o~o~o~

He had been to their apartment, only to find all the rooms empty. Chuck chugged down an entire bottle of water at the sight of the abandoned stress balls. If she had only stayed there, he would accept an unending volley of balls getting thrown at him. She was not answering her phone, so there was no way he could contact her.

Chuck played the messages on the answering machine, hoping to hear Blair's voice cursing at him for his great mistake.

"Mr Bass," he heard Ethan's voice say frantically, "just found out what happened from Ellison. He's getting canned. And he knows it. I'm very sorry. Really, sir—"

Chuck growled and played the next couple of messages. There was one from Lily.

"Hello. Blair, if you're still there, I'm asking you to please stay in the house. Chuck's on his way back—"

Obviously, Blair was already gone by the time Lily called. Or she had still been there but just did not care about staying.

The next message was Eleanor.

"Where on earth are you, Blair? Don't be overdramatic." Chuck wanted to strangle her mother. "If it's true, so what? You two will fix it. I mean, for heaven's sake, Blair, that boy's been more of a husband to you than most real husbands."

Damn.

Chuck fled the apartment and went directly to Eleanor's apartment. The doorman waved him through, and Chuck went directly to the elevator. Dorota greeted him when he emerged. At the sight of Dorota, whom he had last seen with Blair, his knees almost buckled with relief.

"So she's here?" he prompted.

Dorota nodded her head, then pointed to the stairs. "In her old bedroom, Mr Chuck, with Mrs Eleanor."

Chuck knocked on the door. "Dorota?" he heard Eleanor call out.

"It's Chuck."

"No, Chuck, you can't come in!" Blair yelled.

Chuck felt a pang of hurt at the words. "Please, Mrs Bass—"

"I'm not Mrs Bass."

Chuck rested his forehead on the door. "I'm really sorry. I've been feeling so stupid since I found out, and I couldn't even get around to telling you. I didn't mean to lie."

"Just go home, Chuck. I'll meet you there."

Dorota climbed up the steps, and Chuck turned frantic eyes at her. Dorota bit her lip. Then, with a burst of will, Chuck grasped the knob and turned.

"Chuck!" Blair exclaimed in protest. "I said no."

His eyes widened at the sight. Idly he thought he saw Eleanor standing to the side, but all he could really see against the sun streaming in through her windows, was the sight of Blair is a grand ball gown design of an off white wedding gown. The skirt ballooned from her waist down, threaded with silver and studded with crystals. The bodice was tight around her torso, and rose to a primly cut front that completely covered her breasts, but bared her throat. It was strapless, sleeveless, and he could picture Cinderella's wedding gown in those fairy tale books he would always deny having been addicted to.

There were long silk gloves on the bed.

"I told you not to come in. This is unlucky."

He couldn't breathe.

"It's an Eleanor original," Eleanor pronounced to the side. "Fortunately for the two of you, I had this lined up and ready for my photoshoot for a Vogue wedding issue."

"It's gorgeous."

"No more off the rack, alright?"

"Blair—"

"It's going to be Mrs Bass again soon," she told him.

Chuck covered his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Chuck?"

A few seconds, and then he dropped his hand and looked at her in her fairy tale wedding gown. "I thought I'd really done it this time, really screwed it up," he whispered.

She walked over to him, the gown making swishy noises as she moved. Blair wrapped her arms around his neck, then drew him down. "You're such a nice, fresh catch, Bass. Why would I throw you back into the water? Some other girl might catch you."

He had such a great parry to that, to show her he could be humorous, to prove he was intelligent. But his throat had already closed, so he shook his head instead.

"You said I make you happy," she said softly. He nodded in agreement. "Well, I've never been happier with anyone other than you."

She closed her eyes, and he laid his lips on hers. After one prolonged kiss, he pressed short, butterfly kisses over her lashes. "I can't wait to marry you." He looked up at Eleanor, who had started picking up some of the other items from the bed. Blair rested her cheek against his chest. Chuck mouthed to his mother-in-law, 'Thank you.'

tbc


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: **Glad you liked the last part. Don't forget to let me know what you thought.

**Part 24**

She wrapped her arms more tightly around his torso as they lay side by side on her old bed. Chuck tightened the arm he had around her and rested his head on other arm under his head.

"I can't believe my mom is insisting I stay here until we get married," she complained to Chuck. After removing the Eleanor original ballgown-style wedding dress, Blair requested to be allowed to rest. Dorota immediately changed the sheets on her old bed. "We have our own place. You tell her," she urged Chuck.

Chuck smirked down at his wife—because he couldn't just think of her any other way no matter what the documents proved. "You want me to tell Eleanor to do something she doesn't want to do?" Blair nodded. "I thought you loved me. Why do you want me to get killed off in my prime?"

"She's not going to do anything to you," Blair assured him. "She actually likes you."

"Okay," Chuck finally agreed with much trepidation in his voice. "I'll find a good time to ask her."

"Good." Blair squirmed upwards and moved to lie on her stomach. She rested her chest on his and smiled down at him. "Thank you, Bass."

"For you, anything, Mrs Bass." He had said it before, after a night of misadventure in her effort to babysit. It was only now that she completely believed it. They were in trouble, she was sure. Chuck had walked away from a set schedule of a project launch in Europe. In business, every second of delay was equivalent to hard figures. "Have you asked Serena to be your maid of honor?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. I'll ask her tomorrow. She's coming over for snacks after my test."

They would have some blood extraction to determine if her hCG levels had doubled as needed. Women with previous episodes of bulimia or anorexia often had extremely low hCG levels that threatened the growth of the fetus. Chuck was even more nervous than she was about the test. As much as possible, she did not want to dwell on it.

"And your best man?"

"Well," Chuck sighed. "It should be Nate. Shouldn't even be any question about it."

He had not had any time between finding out that he was not going to lose her, that in fact he was being given a chance to give her the wedding she deserved, and holding her close for fear that she would start to bleed when he wasn't watching.

"Are you going to ask him?"

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "Nate and I never really completely settled on the issue of my falling in love with you."

"That's ridiculous," Blair said. "You two looked perfectly fine."

To everyone else, it would appear so. But Chuck knew that nothing ever really went back to the way they were.

"Chuck, Nate and I are fine. He's not depressed about me; I'm certainly not hung up over him. He's your best friend. If you want him to be best man, there's no reason for you to hesitate."

Chuck nodded. Between him and Nate though, not even Blair could fully understand. What erupted about her came from years of insecurity and distrust. "I'll take it into consideration, Mrs Bass," he told her.

Blair smiled, then nodded. "That's all I ask." She ran her fingers down Chuck's cheek. "So what's our motif? Do you want purple?"

"And have Bart Bass roll in his grave?" Chuck asked pointedly. His smile grew bigger. "Yes," he decided. "I think I like purple."

About half an hour later, Dorota knocked on the door. "Mr Waldorf back, Mr Bass."

Chuck nodded, then eased up to a sitting position. "Thank you, Dorota." He turned to Blair who was still lying in bed. "I need to go talk to your dad."

Blair's face softened. She grabbed Chuck's tie and pulled him to her. "Are you going to have a pre-wedding talk?"

Chuck cleared his throat. "Yes."

"That's ridiculous. We're almost as good as married."

"We're better than married," Chuck argued.

He jogged down the steps. Harold and Eleanor both looked up as he arrived. He raised his hand, and said somberly, "I don't know how I can thank you for checking on this for me, Mr Waldorf."

Harold stood up. He shook his head with a small smile on his face. "Completely unnecessary to thank me. You were needed here more." He turned to his ex-wife and inquired, "May we use your office?"

Eleanor stood up. "Of course." She led the way to her office and opened the door for the two.

Chuck asked Harold once the door closed. "How bad is it?" He knew there should be an impact. Blair knew his decision to stay would have some backlash. But it was something he did not want her to worry about.

"It depends on how much delay you'll have," Harold pointed out. "Are you planning on going on that trip soon?"

"Not a chance," Chuck answered quickly, with no trace of hesitation. "I have my priorities straight. I can't take two or three days away from her right now."

"You have to know, Chuck, just with this delay you've already lost about seven million potential earnings." It was money that he was pretty sure the board already plotted to invest elsewhere with the small pool of money circulating Bass. "The longer you wait, the more delay your project will suffer."

"I know," Chuck admitted quietly.

Harold assured the young man. "She's not an invalid, Chuck. She'd be the first one to get irritated if she finds out your work is suffering this much because you've chosen to stay behind."

"I know. I don't want this project to tank, Mr Waldorf. Blair and I worked on this for three weeks nonstop just to hammer out all the details." It seemed like years ago when they were newlyweds figuring out how to go around the small amount of capital Bass could afford instead of arguing about what to paint their living room. "But I'm not leaving again. We've got a blood test to do tomorrow."

"Then delegate," Harold advised. "Bass EU, if I understand correctly, is taking this widescale because it's your project. They want the brainchild of Bart Bass' son. But in your absence, this project should still move along before it completely eats up any profit the New York division makes."

Chuck leaned back. "You'd been gone what—four hours? And you understand more about this project than even my lawyers do after studying it for two weeks."

Harold chuckled softly. "There is a reason that I'm a prominent international lawyer, Chuck."

Chuck added, "Focusing on corporate law and finance."

"Blair got Eleanor's fashion sense, but she got her brains from me."

"Represent me," Chuck blurted out. "Do the EU job for me. They want Bart Bass' son. Right now, even if they turn the world upside down they can't make me leave New York. But I know how important this is to my company, Mr Waldorf. Let's give them the best alternative."

Harold's eyes narrowed. "You're thinking they can't complain about how much value you've given them by sending your wife's father in your place."

"Not just that. I'm sending them one of the top names in global corporate law." The board would go insane over news that Chuck Bass landed Harold Waldorf, who never does take new clients anymore. Of course, Chuck suspected that Harold's fees were in skyrocket territories, which would really give Farrar and the rest of the old bags an aneurysm.

Harold wagged his finger. "You're flattering me, Chuck."

"With your reputation, that's hardly necessary." Chuck pointed out. If Blair got Harold talent for logical argument and acumen for finance, Chuck got Bart Bass' persuasive skills.

Harold grinned, then nodded. "Alright."

"I'll have my accountant contact yours."

Harold waved away the offer. "I don't need a retainer."

"I'm talking about your professional fee," Chuck told the older man. "I would love to have you on retainer, but until this project reaps some benefits, Bass would not be able to afford you on retainer."

Harold grinned. "I'll do this as a favor to you. The success of Bass Industries ultimately translates to my grandchild's security."

The argument was flawless. Chuck was impressed. "I need to pay you for this, Mr Waldorf." In business, nothing should ever come free.

"Fine. I'll charge you a dollar. Consider this a wedding gift."

Chuck shook Harold's hand, and was surprised when the man pulled him in for a hug. "This is what family does," Harold said to Chuck. Chuck relaxed in the embrace and managed to pat Harold on the back. Finally, Chuck returned to Blair's bedroom to find her sleepily flipping through the pages of her wedding magazines. The phone sat beside her and he could only assume she had started making arrangements.

"Guess what?" he said softly when she looked up at him. "I don't need to go to Europe. I'm staying here with you."

She flashed him a smile so that he would know how happy she was at the newest development. And then she asked the question for which he would never volunteer the answer. "How much did we lose?"

"Seven million," he responded easily.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey. I'll willingly lose seven hundred million if it means I never have to leave your side."

Blair scrunched up her nose. She kissed him. Then, keeping her tone light, she said, "But that's stupid, Bass. How can you support us in the lifestyle we deserve?"

Chuck informed Blair of the reason that he did not need to go to Europe, and still maintain the construction project. "Your father generously agreed to represent us in EU."

"But he'll make it back for the wedding?" Chuck nodded. "I want to get married before I start showing."

"So we have about two more months. We need to hire a good planner." Chuck spotted the picture in the magazine. "What do you think of that cake?"

"Looks okay. But we still need to do some taste test. And I don't know if we'll find flowers to match."

"I'll make sure everything matches. And I'll block the Palace."

"Perfect." The large ballroom would be amazing in the reception. Her mind formed a picture of the fully decorated hotel room.

Her eyes drooped, and she eventually drifted off with her head pillowed on his arm. Chuck picked up the magazine and set it aside on the table. He gingerly extricated himself. Blair's eyes fluttered open sleepily.

"Where are you going?" she mumbled.

"Home. I'll be back first thing in the morning to take you to our test."

"Out test." She loved it when he talked about the entire experience as something they went through together. It made her feel safe, less nervous if it was possible. She frowned, then tightened her arms around him. Chuck grinned when her leg came up to cover his. "Stay."

"I have no clothes here. My toothbrush is at home."

Instead of presenting a solution, which she normally did, Blair kept her eyes closed and pressed herself more against him. "Stay."

It would be a little inconvenient to scrounge for a change of clothes in Eleanor Rose's house, but he knew better than to say anything other than, "Whatever you say, Mrs Bass."

"Ummm." She smiled. "You sound—"

"Sexy?" he murmured into her hair.

"I want you," she said. "I miss you." They had not made love since before they found out she was pregnant. Chuck missed the feel of her surrounding him as well. "Make love to me."

She yawned.

He chuckled. "Aside from the fact that I would rather make love to someone who's not liable to fall asleep in the middle of it," he told her. "I don't think I'll be able to perform while I'm scared we'll hurt the baby."

"You're telling me you're committing to two years without alcohol and more than seven more months without sex?"

He gave her a pained look. "Looks like it."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "I think I can still do something so you don't tear your hair all out." Chuck jerked up on the bed when he felt her hand rove down and unzip his pants. The tips of her fingers gently ran down the length of him, making him harden and lengthen in her grasp. "Wow," she said softly. "I miss this little guy."

"Waldorf, you might not want to call him little—" he hissed.

"Oh no," she corrected herself. "He's a big boy now."

Chuck released some soft, tortured laughter. He completely adored this side of her. He always heard Serena complaining about how much Blair started using sexual innuendo, which had sounded uncharacteristic for her. She had done first in the week following his father's wedding to Lily, when they were pretty happy, he thought. And she had done it again only after their honeymoon.

Both times when she was completely confident about them.

Almost like she had not been falling asleep just a few minutes ago, Blair threw the sheet back and raised herself up on her hands and knees. She turned and crawled so that she was facing the straining head, giving him a splendid view of her ass.

Gossip Girl was insane. She hadn't gained a pound.

But he wouldn't mind seeing her curve and swell knowing he was responsible. That was marking his territory in a whole new definite and primitive way. He grabbed her hips and massaged it, then gasped when he felt her hot, wet mouth surrounding him.

His head fell back on the pillow. Chuck turned his head and glared at the door.

"Blair, I didn't lock the door."

"We don't usually lock the door," she said. Chuck almost cursed because she needed to pop him out of his mouth to answer. He thrust his hips up in silent plea. She kissed the top of him where he was sure he's started to leak. Her tongue lapped over him to confirm his suspicion.

He was going to hang himself for saying it, but he had to. He wanted his kid to grow up with a father, and having any one of the three parents under the roof—or worse, Dorota—walk in on them would be his death. Although it was not as if they did not know that he and Blair were active. Seeing was bound to be so much worse than just knowing. "We're at your parents," he managed. This was the reason he got them their own place. Blair sighed, then flipped onto her back and crossed her arms over his chest. Chuck heaved himself up, with his straining member hanging out of his pants, and quickly locked the door. "I can't believe we're acting like hormonal teenagers fumbling in their parents' house," he muttered.

They were Mr and Mrs Bass, for goodness' sake.

"Hate to tell you, Chuck. We are exactly that."

He blinked, then realized that it was true. "Hell, no. We're better than that." He jumped onto the bed, this time with his head on the bed beside hers. He moved closer until their lips were only a hairsbreadth away. Blair looked down at his moist lips, then smiled and pressed closer. Her hand wandered down to take him. Chuck grinned against her mouth. His hands moved to the hem of her nightgown and pulled it slowly up so he could run his fingers down her legs.

Her hand moved up and down, and he took deep breaths in the same rhythm she used. His fingers moved to shove her panties to the side and very gently rubbed against her. "I'll be very careful," he promised.

Blair closed her eyes and pushed her hips closer to him. She threw her head back when he slipped one finger inside her. In response, she quickened her hands.

~o~o~o~o~o~

"You'll be very happy to know that your hCG levels look normal today," the doctor told them. Blair's hand tightened on Chuck's. "This is a very good indicator."

"So she's not high risk anymore?" Chuck asked, effectively getting to the point.

The doctor smiled. Chuck liked her a lot better than the old man who first told them that they were pregnant. "Well hCG levels should double every two or three days in the early part of the pregnancy. Let's check again about three more times before I clear you. Just to be safe."

Blair nodded. "So three more tests over the next two weeks?"

"That's right," the doctor said cheerfully. "Keep taking your prenatal vitamins. You're doing very well." The doctor looked at Chuck. "Keeping her life stress-free?"

Chuck cocked a charming smile. "As much as I can manage. Blair likes to create her own stress." Blair glared at him. "And it's my life's passion to figure out how to get rid of anything that gives her stress. Except me," he added. "I'm most often the one giving her stress." Because really, it had been his mission in life for most of the people he knew. Plus, whenever Blair heard anything self-deprecating from him, she managed to forget whatever pissed her off.

"Hey. Don't talk about my husband like that," she said gently.

Success.

"By the time we rule out a high risk pregnancy," the doctor told them, "the pregnancy will be advanced enough that you'll be able to hear a heartbeat."

They were floating on air by the time they were finished. In fact, he was celebrating so much in his own head that he did not even mind that the limo was not yet there by the time they reached the exit. He wrapped his arms around Blair's waist from behind. She rested her head back on his shoulder while his hands cupped her non existent tummy.

"What do you think—boy or girl?"

"I don't mind either way. As long as he or she looks like you," he answered.

She smiled, even if he could not see. "I don't know," she said softly. "I think a little boy who looks like you—with your brows and your smirk—that would be interesting. I would totally go for that."

He smiled, then brushed a kiss on her cheek. "You haven't wondered about a little girl with your curls? We can put sparkly hair ribbons on her pigtails."

Blair allowed herself to picture what Chuck painted. She would shop nonstop for that. So much that Chuck would need to buy them a bigger place so that all the clothes and the toys would fit. She caught a sharp burst of light from the side. Her focus shifted and saw the photographers.

"You realize people are taking our pictures?" she asked.

Chuck noticed the people taking shots of the personal moment they shared, in the intimate pose they were in. He did not pull away. Where once he would rather wave them away or find a place where they would not be seen, today he was just too happy to be pissed off. "Let them," he told her. "Let them tell the entire world how completely ecstatic we are."

That, of course, did not matter to the two bodyguards. They were quiet as a shadow as they moved to place themselves in strategic positions outside the hospital exit to bar anyone from coming closer to the two.

While riding in the limo, with the two black cars following them closely, Blair asked Chuck to have the vehicle stop. They had done it once before to pick up their diaper bags. This time, she stopped outside Petit Bateau in Madison.

"Dad would completely adore the clothes here. Come on," she invited Chuck. "I'll show you."

Chuck hesitated. "We don't even know if it's a girl or a boy."

"We'll stick to neutral colors. Come on, please?" The last word was the magic one, so he climbed out of the limo just in time to see the black cars of Blair's bodyguards stop near the limo. Fortunately, there did not seem to be any journalists following them this time, so the two burly men kept their distance. "I didn't want to buy anything when we weren't sure. But now it looks okay. Let me get just one piece."

He didn't want to burst her bubble and tell her there were still more tests to be sure. Instead, he nodded and placed a hand on her waist. "I just don't want you to get tired. You've been up on your feet for a few hours."

"No more than an hour," she promised. "And then we can go. I'll be back in bed and you can go to work."

Despite his earlier apprehension, Chuck found himself delighter by the small berets and scarves. Blair picked up a striped navy patterned onesie and held it up to him. It was white and blue, very masculine.

"I thought we were going neutral," he reminded her.

Blair grinned. "I was just imagining a baby with your temper wearing this and a beret."

Chuck walked up to her and picked up the onesie. "Let's not do that. I don't want my kid to hate me." He opened his hand and showed her the pairs of mittens and socks he had picked up that all fit in the palm of his hand. They were a soft brown. "How about this?"

She oohed at his selection, then nodded. Chuck paid for the items then took Blair's hand in his. He led her out of the store. "Now home," he whispered into her ear.

Blair nodded. "They're adorable. Thank you."

Outside the baby store, they found Nate waving towards them. Blair waved at their friend while Chuck nodded in greeting.

"I know why we're here," Chuck pointed out. "What the hell are you doing here?" Most of the stores in the area were baby boutiques. He looked down at the bag Nate was holding, from a store in a street nearby—Z. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

Nate looked down at the bag. "This? No!" he blurted out. "My mom asked me to pick up something. She's attending a baby shower and didn't want to get out of the house." He grinned at Blair and at their linked hands. "So, Mrs Bass," Nate greeted Blair, "I read Gossip Girl. I was going to drop by to ask you if it was true." He gestured to their surroundings. "Looks like it is."

Blair nodded. Chuck answered, "We're a little over a month along."

"We?" Nate repeated, chuckling.

"Yes, we," Blair repeated.

"Hey!" Nate remembered. He pulled Blair along with him towards the window four stores down. Chuck was startled at the quick movement and Blair hurried along with Nate. The bodyguards reacted at the shock on Chuck's face ad moved to follow the two. Chuck gestured to them that it was alright. He followed where Nate took Blair and saw them looking into the window at a line of cribs. "Look what they have."

Blair spotted the canopy crib that Nate pointed to. "Oh wow," she breathed. Chuck noted the misty-eyed delight she had looking at the piece of wood furniture. "Nate, they have it again! They stopped making it what… two years ago?"

He nodded. "I remember the day you pointed that out to me and told me you wanted that for our kid."

At that, Chuck's back went ramrod straight. Blair had a small smile on her face, looking at the crib like it had been crafted from pure gold. She nodded. "You said it was ridiculous because it looked too fancy."

Nate shrugged. For the first time since Chuck married Blair, he felt like an outsider. "I never did figure out until very late that nothing's too fancy when you're dating Blair Waldorf." Nate brightened. "Let me buy it for you," he offered. "It can be my gift for the baby."

"Nate, no," Blair protested.

"Really," the blonde insisted. "I mean, you've dreamed of this since you were thirteen years old, before you even really knew how babies were made."

Blair flushed.

Nate cocked a grin at her. "Remember? You made me promise I'd buy it when the time came. I was a bit disappointed that I stopped by here and this model wasn't at the window. They said they'd stopped making it."

She sighed. "I remember you telling me about it and I got a little teary."

"Teary" Nate laughed. "You were sniffling throughout dinner." Nate fished for his Vanderbilt credit card and held it up between two fingers. "I'll get it right now."

"Nate, she said no," Chuck interrupted. Blair looked up in surprise at Chuck.

Chuck could tell from the way Nate looked at him that his best friend finally realized where his mistake was. "Chuck, it doesn't mean anything."

"Get your hands off her."

Nate was smart enough to let Blair's hand go. Blair immediately placed a hand on Chuck's upper arm and moved it up and down in a gentle motion. "It's not a big deal, Chuck," Blair said softly. "It's just one of those things."

"I just wanted to keep a promise," Nate said.

It was a promise he had made when they both thought they were eventually going to get married. It did not count in Chuck's rational mind.

"I'm a little sentimental," Nate explained. "I didn't mean to overstep. I'm leaving for college, and the girl I thought would have my babies is having a baby with my best friend."

Blair blinked up at Nate. "So you're leaving for school?"

"My grandfather managed to convince me that my future is in Yale."

"You're going to Yale," Blair said carefully, with some disbelief.

"Just like the plan," Nate said lightly.

Just like Blair's plan for the two of them, not so long ago.

"You should really run me down some of the important events I shouldn't miss there. You were going to be my guide, after all."

Chuck saw the change in her stance, the moment that her eyes shone, the time when her smile grew impossibly bigger. He moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Nate, it's good to see you. I should take Blair home."

"Yeah," she breathed. "I need to lie down."

"Alright. I'll drop by soon."

In the limo, Blair laid her head on Chuck's arm. She told him softly, "You know Nate's not a threat, don't you?"

"Damn right he's not," Chuck answered quickly.

Blair opened the packaging and lifted the pair of small socks, and rubbed her fingers over the material. Chuck took the mittens from the bag and handed them to her.

There was a threat, something that made her unhappy.

It was definitely not Nate.

He did not miss the quick way she brushed away the tear that just fell down her cheek. She would have not said anything, but he brushed away the remaining tracks with his handkerchief. She laughed softly. "I can't believe my hormones. I don't know why I'm crying." She laid the mittens and the socks on her lap. "Look at them. They're so small and pretty."

He pulled her close to his side and kissed the top of her head.

tbc


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: **Let it be said that I did try to write the last part of Footsteps. I had it open and everything. But I was staring at a blank page for a long time. It was not what my brain wanted. It was this or Heaven. Or—my writing instinct is trying to run me aground—because I just saw the fourth story of the Against the Dying of the Light series unfold in my head. Very difficult to rein that in.

Additionally, I do want to remind people that this story took off from after Blair threw the flowers into the elevator after Chuck tried to apologize after the 'wife' comment.

**Part 25**

_So early into their wedded bliss—or should we abyss?—and already there's trouble in paradise? Well, what else could we have expected from the inevitably torturous pairing that is Chuck and Blair? _

_Spotted. A quick tiff between two BFFs. Chuck Bass and Nate Archibald in what seems to be a tense argument while Blair watches in the sidelines. And right outside Baby World Co, makes of fine baby furniture. Well if we didn't know already that Mrs Bass is carrying—we'd know now._

_The question is—and look closely at the photo—who's the father?_

_Oh Mrs Bass, for a girl with such an impressive GPA, you just never learn, do you?_

When Chuck entered the boardroom, his was the only seat left empty. He nodded at Harold, and proceeded to the empty seat at the head of the table. Chuck slid his phone into his back pocket.

"Gentlemen," Chuck said, "I would like to introduce you to Mr Harold Waldorf. He is working with us on this project."

"We know Mr Waldorf, Mr Bass," Farrar responded. "Some of us have tried to land Mr Waldorf. Apparently, it is a feat only achieved through familial connections," he added pointedly.

Harold stood, then handed folders to everyone in the boardroom. "Never let is be said that Harold Waldorf is into nepotism. I assure you, gentlemen, that I would not sign up for a failure. I looked into every facet of my son-in-law's project and considered myself blown away."

Farrar grunted.

"Weren't you?" Harold interjected, looking straight at Farrar.

"I was," admitted the old man. "That's why we gave it a green light."

Harold smiled, nodded in satisfaction. "Then we're on the same page." He looked at Chuck. "Your board seems to approve of your project. This is a very shrewd group of people."

Chuck stifled a smile at the looks of approval he received from the other members of the board. Harold was a shark, or however sharks were called when you put a suit on them, gave them high class building and propped them up in a high rise Fortune 40 office.

If he was paying Harold half of his inheritance, it would probably be all worth it. Of course, given that if he did that, the money would eventually go to his own children, it was a bargain.

Chuck looked through the pages of the detailed plan Harold had signed off on at the EU office. He watched Farrar glare at the figures. While Harold talked, the frown on Farrar's face gave way to a relaxed expression. The older man leaned back in his chair.

"So EU will begin the project we've already started. Where are they getting the designs? Are we fronting those funds?"

Harold turned the discussion to Chuck. Chuck sat up and responded, "The designs will be theirs if they choose to spend. They are not in as dire a strait as we are."

"They will expect to see our designs."

He remembered the folder of blueprints that Blair gathered from Bart's office when they were choosing the ones they would use for the local construction. "We still have a few designs that Bart's paid for. We can make use of them."

Mrs Kelly beamed at the profit margin at the last page. "I will contact our Pacific counterpart and let them know that they should begin work in this project too."

Chuck raised his hand in a gesture to stop. "I don't want to begin work in the Pacific."

The blonde women furrowed his brows in confusion. "I would think you would jump at this opportunity. This will seal it for you. You would have the most successful freshman project in your company's history, Mr Bass."

"I didn't want anything too large scale right now." The US and Europe was giant-scale enough. "I'm starting a family, Mrs Kelly."

Chuck felt Harold assess him quietly. Despite his will, Chuck felt himself flush. "I just got married. I have a baby on the way."

"Well, dear, you have nothing to worry about. Bass Pacific has a very strong leader at the helm. I'll set up a meeting with you two. And Mr Waldorf, of course, if he wants to join." Mrs Kelly, bless her soul, seemed devoid of the corporate political agenda that reeked from Farrar. And because of that, the older woman seemed to not consider that the man in question had tried to wrestle the company out of Chuck's hands. "Oh what am I thinking? It's your uncle, Chuck—Jack Bass." Mrs Kelly turned to Harold. "Very talented man."

"Your wife knows what kind of leader he is. They working together a lot when you were—" Farrar arched an eyebrow, "—indisposed."

"This is still my project and my responsibility."

"Take it home. Think about it. Talk it over with your wife," Farrar suggested.

"She had a very astute business mind," Mrs Kelly remembered. The rest of the board agreed. "She did give Caruthers the idea to roll his marketing plan to the malls."

Caruthers nodded sagely. "It's given us a three forty two percent increase in sales from the time we implemented that."

Chuck had to wonder how many Bass functions his uncle managed to drag Blair into while he had been 'indisposed.' It had not been something he considered asking her. He threw a helpless look at his father-in-law.

There was not going to be any assistance to be had there. Harold seemed to be fascinated with the stories of his daughter's business mind. When the board shuffled off to their respective homes and offices, Chuck and Harold made their way to Chuck's office.

Harold crossed the floor to look out of the tall glass windows and into the city. Chuck went over to his desk and took a look at the folders marked for him. He picked up one and looked down at the numbers quoted. Chuck pushed his intercom button.

"Yes, Mr Bass?" Gina's voice responded.

"Gina, schedule a sitdown with Egr Vera. As soon as possible."

Chuck hung up the intercom, then saw his father-in-law looking at him. "Is there anything wrong?" Harold inquired.

"The quotation here is ridiculous. This was not what I discussed when they started building."

Harold shook his head. He sat in the chair in front of Chuck's desk and waited until Chuck settled into his. "You've been preoccupied since you came in late to your board meeting."

Chuck leaned closer to him and assured him, "Nothing. I was talking to Blair. I didn't want to hang up on her. She's been depressed about Yale and just having to stay at home at Eleanor's."

Harold's brows furrowed, and Chuck remembered that his father-in-law might be a little out of the loop, having only just returned from his Euro corporate run for Chuck. "Why is she still staying with her mother?"

"Before you left, Eleanor insisted that Blair stay in the penthouse," Chuck informed Harold.

Harold nodded in memory. "I thought that was only until the doctor could let us know was wrong."

Chuck sighed. "Apparently, Eleanor wants her daughter home until we were married." He shook his head. "We're married, Mr Waldorf," he said, his voice almost pleading. "Blair's getting frustrated by the day. She wants to go home."

"And you're getting as frustrated."

"Even more."

Harold gave a small grin, then patted Chuck on the back. "I'll talk to Eleanor."

"We'd appreciate it," Chuck said.

The intercom buzzed. "Mr Bass, the engineer will be by at three."

Harold stood up and said, "Well you take care of your business here. I'm going to talk to Eleanor."

~o~o~o~o~

Blair sat surrounded by the planners. In front of her was a selection of floral arrangements. In one hand, she could select a multicolored spectacle arranged in a low wide spread, with the highlights being the purple. On the other, it could be tall and simple, fresh like the stargazers.

She had already ruled out the tulips. They were too traditional, and if there was one thing she and Chuck just were not—it was traditional.

"Chuck's on his way. I mean, I've narrowed it down to two. Let's wait for him before we make our final decision." She looked up and saw Dorota standing in the corner of the living room, outside the circle of the wedding planners. "Have you seen my phone?"

Dorota shifted. She had made sure to keep Miss Blair's phone far away from her. The moment she received the Gossip Girl blast with Mr Nate and Mr Chuck and that rude question, Dorota decided to take matters into her own hands. "Still missing, Miss Blair."

Blair pointed to the flowers. "Which one do you think Chuck will like?"

Dorota shook her head emphatically. "I no speak for Mr Chuck, Miss Blair."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Then will you call Chuck for me? He promised he'd be here at four." Blair turned to Keith, the head planner. "What time is it?"

Before the planner answered, Dorota interjected, "It's quarter to four, Miss Blair."

At that, Blair relaxed, but the planner looked at Dorota in confusion. Blair turned to the planner. "Oh Keith, you're early. That's why."

Keith opened his mouth to protest, and Dorota laughed. "Yes, yes. I think planner excited." She glared at the planner.

"Of course they are." Blair smiled. "It will be the most talked about wedding of the year. And I want it in less than two months." To Dorota, she said, "Can you call Chuck to make sure he's on his way?"

Dorota slipped out of the living room and took out from her apron the phone that Blair had gotten for her on her birthday. She pursed her lips, because she did not want to run out of minutes. She just liked to text because it was little to no expense at all. She pressed the call button. "For Miss Blair."

It was Gina who answered her call. "I want to speak to Mr Chuck," she told the secretary. Dorota had seen Gina quite a few times. The woman took care of Chuck almost as securely as Dorota did Blair. Dorota even once heard a conversation between Blair and Chuck and found out that it was Gina who booked their honeymoon tickets.

"Mr Bass is not available right now."

"It's an emergency."

The urgent tone that came into the woman's voice satisfied Dorota. "Is it Mrs Bass? Is she sick?"

Dorota wanted to say yes, to hear the secretary scurry to get Chuck out of whatever seemed more important than a schedule with his wife. "Miss Blair is fine. I take care of Miss Blair."

"Dorota, is it?"

"Yes."

"Mr Bass is in a very important meeting."

Dorota gasped. "Why you schedule meeting with Mr Chuck at four? Mr Chuck late for Miss Blair!"

Gina paused. Dorota heard frantic typing.

"It four thirty. I lie to Miss Blair so Mr Chuck not in trouble!"

Gina sighed. "The meeting was scheduled at three thirty. It's spilled over, Dorota."

"Then you knock and tell him he late."

"This is important business. I can't do that."

"Wedding important business too!" Dorota insisted. "If Miss Blair get angry—"

"Okay, okay. You make sure Mrs Bass doesn't get angry. I'm going to do my best—"

"Best?" Dorota huffed. "You better do better, lady."

"I'll tell Mr Bass," Gina promised.

Satisfied, Dorota returned to the living room, where there were swatches of fabric on the coffeetable. "Hand me that one," Blair requested. The planner reached for the swatch. Blair grabbed her wrist. Dorota spied the glittering Cartier on the woman. She slapped a hand on her forehead forlornly. "Sweetie, I think your watch is too advanced."

"Miss Blair—"

Blair held up a hand to silence Dorota. She pulled herself up to her feet, then looked up when Harold made his way down the stairs. "Dad, I didn't know you were here."

"I've been home for about an hour. Your mother is not an easy woman to argue with." Harold chuckled. "Other lawyers tremble at my arguments. Your mother spits out hellfire and sends me scurrying."

That made Blair smile. Dorota held her breath. Maybe Mr Waldorf—oh she really was loyal to Mr Waldorf—could take Blair's attention away from her new discovery. She really did not want a stressed out Miss Blair. A stressed out Miss Blair meant a frantic Mr Chuck and less chance for Dorota to take care of a bouncing little Miss Blair.

"What were you trying to get mom to agree to?"

"Your husband, sweetheart, wanted me to convince your mom to let you go home."

Blair gasped. "Did you win?"

"Was there ever any doubt?" Harold returned.

Blair squealed. She shot up to her feet and ran to her father, forcing the group of wedding planners to move aside. "Daddy, you're the best!"

She waved at her mother, who followed Harold's path down the steps with Cyrus at her side. It was to Cyrus that she exclaimed, "I'm going home!"

Cyrus patted Eleanor's arm. "That's good to hear, Blair."

"I'm free!"

"For heaven's sake, Blair, this place is not exactly Alcatraz."

"And it only took a little over an hour to convince you," Harold pointed out to Eleanor. "I'm sure the guards at the Alcatraz took a bit longer than that."

"That's right," Eleanor replied. "You completely screwed up my schedule. You've eaten up my three thirty to four thirty."

"I'm sure you can still call, mom," Blair offered. "You're only a fifteen minutes late."

Eleanor smirked. "Honey, it's almost five. We should tell Charles to get you a new watch." Eleanor turned to Dorota. Dorota felt like her head was about to explode. "Dorota, help Blair gather some of her things. She's moving back with Charles immediately."

"Wait." Blair glared at the planner, then at Dorota. "So Chuck really is late."

"Mr Chuck in meeting, Miss Blair. Important one," Dorota offered.

Blair pursed her lips. She turned to the planners. "Let's reschedule."

"Blair, we need to lock on some things today if you want us to even try something as impossible as a grand wedding in two months," Keith said. "We still need to find a venue."

"We're doing it at the Palace."

"The Palace. It's booked solid until—"

"Janice—"

Blair's face grew red. Dorota clapped her hands together. "Miss Blair say the Palace. You do the Palace. Miss Blair owns the Palace." She waved her hands to shoo them. "You make new appointment. I take care Mr Chuck come."

Blair folded her arms over her chest. She shook her head at Dorota. "You lied to me, Dorota?"

She stomped up the stairs and muttered to her parents, "Thanks, dad. But I'm staying. Mom, keep Chuck away from me."

When Chuck came, Blair refused to open the door. Dorota winced at the thud on the door, figuring that it was likely one of the large pillows that Blair launched at the door.

"Blair, I'm sorry. It completely slipped my mind."

"I'm not going home with you, Chuck!" she yelled.

Chuck sighed and then turned his brown eyes at Dorota. "It was an honest mistake."

Dorota nodded. "It was Gina mistake. You go. I talk to Miss Blair." Chuck yawned. "You tired. Go home."

Chuck frowned. "We've got a doctor's appointment in the afternoon," he told Dorota. "It's our last one. I hope she's not mad anymore."

Chuck made his way down the stairs. Dorota entered Blair's room to find Blair packing up some of her personal items. She smiled and stepped closer to Blair. "Sorry. I not lie again."

Blair sniffled, but still placed some of her stuff in a bag. "Just help me pack. I'm moving back in with Chuck."

"Okay, Miss Blair."

"I'm so mad at him," she mumbled. She turned her tearful eyes at Dorota. "When he's always at work, and I'm always stuck at home, you'd stay with me, right, Dorota?"

"Of course, Miss Blair. But you have friends."

She shook her head. "Serena's going to Brown. Nate's leaving for Yale. Even Humphrey, ugh, is going away. I'll be left here all alone." Blair sniffled. "Everyone's moving on except for me. I'd be stuck growing fat and getting forgotten because my husband would always be busy with more important things."

"Miss Blair, you most important to Mr Chuck."

~o~o~o~

Blair made her way down the stairs with Dorota carrying her small bag. She stopped at the bottom step and squinted at the living room. She flipped on the light, then saw Chuck half lying on the chaise, fast asleep.

"Oh," Blair gasped.

"Mr Chuck very tired," Dorota told her.

"Go to bed, Dorota. Leave my bag by the elevator."

Blair waited as Dorota slipped away. Then, she walked towards the chaise and sat on the edge. Chuck slept with his mouth a little open. Her husband snored softly. Blair relaxed her shoulders, touched his cheek. She sniffled.

Chuck's eyes opened. His turned his lips to kiss her fingers.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said.

She shook her head. "It's not like I wasn't expecting it."

"What do you mean?" he asked. His hand closed over hers.

"When we got married," she confessed, "I knew it wasn't going to last. You were bound to grow into your potential, you know."

"You always did think I was better than what I was," he recalled.

Blair continued, "I was ready for it. I was going to college afterwards." That was why she had postponed her own admission to Yale. "But I had to be me, and I always keep falling for you." She sniffled. "And I can't even have college as a backup right now. I had to go get knocked up. I had to have been a bulimic in a high risk pregnancy. I'm the perfect candidate to be left behind!"

He sat up, his back aching due to lying down on a chaise. He placed his hands on her arms. "Blair, I'm sorry for missing today. But you saying to me you expected it—that just makes me feel like an asshole."

"Every couple who fell in love early—every one of them outgrew each other. Your stepmom and Mr Humphrey, my dad and his high school girlfriend, Cyrus and his first wife…" She paused. "Me and Nate." She released a shuddering breath. "You've got a Fortune 40 company and I'll be stuck at home regressing."

"That's impossible," he told her. Chuck kissed her on the lips. Blair smiled tearfully. "You are the most intelligent, most driven person I've ever known. You can sleep all day and still wake up learning more than I did the entire day."

She nodded.

Chuck frowned. "You're never going to be left behind." He kissed her on the forehead. "Do you believe me?"

"Sure," she whispered.

"Let's go home," Chuck suggested. She nodded. He stood up and offered her his hand.

tbc

**AN:** I was going to continue… I'm on a roll with this story. But I have to go get ready for church. Ta!


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 26**

Blair buttoned her Burberry coat in front of her, and rushed to the door when she heard the doorbell. Chuck forgot his keys again. Typical. But then again she had made so many mistakes the entire day, clumsy errors, just because of her excitement. She had no doubt that Chuck was nervous too.

This was the day they had been looking forward to since they were told of the high risk nature of her pregnancy.

She was finally six weeks along, and today was her last hCG test before the doctor determined whether she was still at high risk. She had not been spotting for the last week, so she was hopeful. But more importantly, today was the day that her doctor promised that they could hear the baby's heartbeat.

"Wait!" she called out.

Blair pulled open the door and found Nate waiting outside holding up a big red bow. Blair fluttered her eyes in surprise, and lowered her shoulder bag to the ground. "I didn't order a Chippendale dancer."

Nate grinned, then shook his head. "I'm about to make you very happy, Blair," he declared.

She grinned. "And again, I did not order a male stripper."

He stepped aside and showed her a large gift wrapped item behind him. It did not take a genius to figure out what it was. She stepped forward and ripped open the wrapper. "It's the crib!" she exclaimed. She gave Nate a big, fat smile. And then her smile faded. "I can't accept this," she said.

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

"You can accept it," he told her. Nate pointed to the headboard. "There is no way Chuck can be jealous about it now." Carved in the wooden headboard – Waldorf-Bass. "Not even Chuck's paranoid brain can come up with a way I can have that changed to Archibald."

"That'll do it," she decided after she read the name. Blair turned to Nate and thanked him. "Now get your ass moving, pretty boy. Haul my gorgeous new furniture inside."

Nate nodded and pulled the somewhat heavy baby crib into the apartment. "Where to, Mrs Bass?"

"Second door to the right," she instructed.

"I should have not sent the delivery guy back down," he complained. "How can baby furniture be so heavy?" Nate grunted at the effort. "But you know," he huffed, "if you think about it, this is can turn into a sexy scene."

"Spare me the porn drivel," Blair told Nate. "Even Chuck knows better than to bring that up in my presence."

"Yes, ma'am."

Blair followed Nate and saw him checking to make sure all the woods connected properly. He shook the furniture to prove that it was steady. Nate crouched down on the floor, on his hands and knees, to check underneath. His blonde hair fell across his forehead. Blair assessed the placement of the crib in the still empty nursery.

"Is it secure?"

Nate looked up at her and grinned. "Yes, mommy."

His grin faded as quickly as her shoulders tensed. It seemed so long ago, when they could look through baby boutiques and furniture shops. They liked to pretend, between the two of them, that they were newlyweds. They even did it between the year he had cheated and when she found out about it. It was simple really. Whatever Nate did, there was never a question that they would end up together, decorating their own place, preparing for their family.

How long had it been since he playfully called her that?

She whispered, "What happened to us?"

And even though he knew exactly what he was talking about, he still asked, "What do you mean?"

"It used to be so simple. We were so sure. You and I—in a nursery like this, 2.5 kids, you running for public office and me taking a break from my law career."

Nate sighed. "And you'd already be a senior partner by the time you got pregnant with the second kid."

"You're off to your Ivy League school. Your grandfather is setting you up for public office. You can still get all that with someone else, Nate. What happened to me?" Blair emphasized.

Nate moved to a sitting position and leaned against the crib. "I guess we never counted on Chuck."

"Is it Chuck?" she clarified. "Is he the reason we never got what we planned, Nate?"

"Well," Nate decided, "I think if it wasn't for Chuck we'd still get everything we planned for. We would have forced ourselves to get what we dreamed of."

"You would have your career," she realized, "and I'd have mine, and we'd have 2.5 kids reeling headlong into a scandalous divorce."

"Possibly because I cheated on you," Nate teased. "With some hot cougar."

"Or maybe I did." She grimaced. "With Chuck."

Nate let out a throaty laugh. He pulled himself up to his feet and drew her forward into an embrace. "So if you're wondering what's happened to you, I think the only answer is that you fell in love. And it will probably be a rough couple of months, but you'll see—it's not too bad of a life, is it?"

She was silent, calmly counting her breaths.

"Is it, Blair?"

Blair turned around and saw Chuck staring at her from the nursery doorway. Nate quickly released her. He started, "Chuck—"

Chuck held up a hand to silence his best friend. "I'm waiting for her to answer the question, Nate."

Blair walked towards Chuck, and pressed her body against his, leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her. "We have a check up," she reminded him.

"Are you going to answer?" he asked quietly.

"It's not too bad," she admitted.

"I want you to be happy."

"Let's take it one day at a time."

Chuck nodded, then kissed her cheek. Blair's lips curved. Nate sighed. He gestured to the crib. "Alright, Chuck. Look at this before you throw a fit."

Chuck huffed. "I don't throw fits."

Blair straightened, then closed her hand around Chuck's. She drew him towards the beautiful piece of furniture. Chuck seemed displeased at the thought, "So my son or daughter is going to sleep in a crib that my wife's ex-boyfriend bought. It's very Springer to me."

Nate showed Chuck the carving. "Appreciate it. That doubled the price."

Chuck arched an eyebrow, then grunted when he read the carving. "Now it looks so much better than it did in the window display."

"Right."

"Well, thank you, Nathaniel. I appreciate it."

Nate brushed his hands together. "Then my work here is done. You two off?"

"We have a doctor's appointment," Chuck responded. "We'd invite you to tag along, but that would be even more fodder for a Springer episode."

"I should be insulted, but I'm just grateful." Nate shook his head. "I don't do blood. You two have fun." He turned to Blair, then leaned close to give her a peck on the cheek, all the while keeping a wary eye on Chuck. "I'll see you soon. And good luck."

~o~o~o~o~

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, watching the way she leaned her head back as the doctor adjusted her feet on the stirrups. Blair nodded, then clutched at his hand as the doctor inserted the probe. He could see the discomfort in her eyes. He swore the moment the doctor gave them a green light that she was off bedrest, he was going to take her shopping. And she could get whatever she wanted. The sky was not even a limit for her.

"It's alright, Blair," the doctor said soothingly. "This is the last time, I promise. On your third month ultrasound, we'll do it the easy way over your tummy, okay?"

Blair closed her eyes and shifted on the bed.

"Here we go."

It sounded odd, echoing, rhythmic. Chuck's lips parted in awe at the sound. His breath expanded inside his chest until it almost burst from his throat, but for the life of him he could not command his body to follow the normal procedure for breathing.

"There it is, Blair," the doctor said.

Blair did not say anything, but Chuck felt the way her fingers tightened around his. In response, he brought her hand up to his lips.

"That's your baby's heartbeat," said the doctor needlessly.

Chuck could feel himself suffocating, and he gasped for breath. Blair, on the other hand, breathed stably, and he marveled at her strength. Then he saw a tear roll down from a corner of her tightly shut eyelids.

"And there it is onscreen."

Blair sniffled, then turned her attention to the fuzzy lines on the screen. Chuck noticed the rapidly oscillating mass of white lines that seemed to pulse at the same rhythm as the noise. "You see it?" he asked softly.

Blair nodded erratically. "There. There's my baby."

"That's right," Chuck murmured, adapting her term just because she needed it now. "Your baby. Makes it all worth it, doesn't it?"

She let out a soft sob. "It's really there. With a heartbeat."

"Wait a minute," the doctor whispered. She placed a hand on Blair's knee, and moved her hand. Blair winced, and the doctor apologized.

Not again. There couldn't be something wrong every time things seemed perfect. It was not fair. Chuck stood up and blocked Blair's view of the monitor, just in case. He glared at the doctor. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Blair looked up at Chuck and then placed her free hand on her belly. Her hand fisted. Chuck noticed the nervous movement, and closed his other hand on top of her fisted one, forcing her to entwine her fingers with his.

"I thought I saw something," the doctor said. "Blair, just breathe in deeply. I need to check it."

Blair drew a trembling breath, and gritted her teeth when the doctor moved the instrument.

And then the doctor relaxed. Chuck turned his head and saw the fuzzy image form on the screen. The room filled with the steady, resounding heartbeat again. Chuck moved aside, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" he asked again, suspecting, but unwilling to be the first to say it unless it was not true.

"It's a heartbeat."

"It's my baby's heartbeat," Blair clarified.

The doctor smiled, and placed a gloved hand on the left side of Blair's belly. She placed her stethoscope in her ear and listened. Then she moved the stethoscope to a few inches away.

"Give me your hands," the doctor requested from Blair.

Chuck released Blair's hands, because if it was true then he wanted her to experience it first. Blair laid her hands on the doctor's. The doctor placed Blair's left palm against where she had listened to, then moved her right palm over to where her stethoscope had been. Blair's gaze moved to Chuck. He grinned at her.

And damn if the AC was not set too high, because his eyes were producing so much water to make up for the dryness in the air.

"Blair, that's where your babies are right now."

Blair was silent. She blinked at Chuck. Right after the doctor confirmed it to him, Chuck placed his fingers on his temple, willing himself not to melt into a puddle. He was going to be a father. Twice. And then Blair drew his hand over to cover one of places where the doctor said the babies were.

"Chuck, we need to get another crib," she said idly, and the words penetrated into his brain very slowly.

The doctor took Blair's chart and recorded their new discovery. She checked the test results that came back. "Well, you'll be able to enjoy splurging on your babies soon. It looks like you're out of bedrest, Blair."

"I am?" Blair exclaimed. The doctor nodded. She turned to Chuck with a grin. "Chuck, I'm going back to school."

Chuck released his breath, and met her excited eyes.

"And I'm going to work again. I miss working with you," the words spilled from her lips. "And prom! It's going to be prom soon. Be my date?"

He nodded slowly, because really, was there even any doubt that no one else was going to be allowed to take her?

"And Yale! I can finally go to Yale!"

His head was screaming was him, flagging every one of her exclamations.

She grabbed his hand and held it to her chest. "I'm so happy. Today is the best day I've ever had since we got married. Oh, and we have to move up our wedding. I'll get bigger faster." She pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you so much," she said against his mouth. "We're going to have twins!"

Chuck set his jaw, then requested to speak with the doctor. Blair waved them both away as she plucked her phone from the sidetable.

"Daddy, I have the best news—"

tbc


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: **Editing my own AN which had been a plea for people not to treat me like a punching bag. That was too polite. I'm pissed now. So here's the deal—if you think ending stories as Chair is 'predictable' then use YOUR BRAIN and don't click on a story titled MR AND MRS BASS. From which bottom did you pull the idea that this can end up as Nair? Don't choose a fic (Heaven in Your Embrace) that has Chuck/Blair in the first page or the summary. I mean, come on!!!!!

And for the rest, thank you for your continued enjoyment. I know I don't do much interaction (ANs or replying) but I really enjoy reading your comments.

Oh yeah, and I am writing this because I'm so happy with the last ep. I mean—CB for the friggin win! Each time they showed Chuck _looking_ at her… SIGH… But danged flamers are irritating.

**Part 27**

When Chuck told her in the limo that he was taking her shopping, Blair formed her plan. With the doctor's all clear, it should be easy enough. She saw the way her husband still looked at her. If it was at all possible, Chuck was finding her more and more attractive by the day. Sometimes she would find him staring at the scoop neckline of her dresses and would playfully and 'accidentally' brush her hip against his crotch. He found her attractive, and it was the one thing she had on him that assured her of her place. Even if she was getting stunted by her bedrest and he was finding newer and better worlds by being a young billionaire CEO.

It was her time to finally lock it in, make him realize there was nothing better out there for him.

Blair Waldorf-Bass was going to be the perfect wife.

Aces.

The best in the world.

And she would start it off, she decided, that afternoon.

Chuck took her hand and placed it on his arm as they made their way to the line of designer boutiques that she and Serena often frequented. He nodded at salesgirls who seemed to know him. They passed by the store where he had bought her first wedding gown, and Chuck even waved to the girls at the store. Other guys tended to veer away from shopping with a girl, but Chuck seemed to adore it—maybe even shopped more than she did.

Blair pulled him along with her towards her target. Chuck tightened a hand around hers, then nodded in the opposite direction.

"Designer maternity clothes are over here."

Blair arched an eyebrow at him, then scoffed. "I think we have a couple more months before I have to shop in maternity." And what she did next was calculated, all towards her goal of the day. She pulled her hand away and turned around, proudly showing off her still slim form and highlighting the roundness of her breasts. "Don't you think so?" she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

Chuck cleared his throat, then stifled a grin. He pulled at his collar to loosen it a bit. "I do think so, Mrs Bass," he agreed.

"Then come here with me," she invited, her eyes half-lidded.

Chuck followed her blindly towards the La Perla in the other direction. When they walked inside, Chuck's grin widened. "You want underwear?" he said in disbelief.

Blair turned around and stepped into his arms. She smiled up at him and said, "I'll show you I want."

His eyes narrowed, and his head lowered so he could take her lips. Blair's arms fluttered up and rested on his shoulders. And then when their lips parted, he gave a soft groan. "Blair, no," he complained. "Not yet."

"Of course not," she said amicably. She took his hand and pulled him with her, then pushed him back in one of the cushioned armchairs in front of a dressing room. She felt his eyes and her as she twirled towards the racks, then pulled random designs of the teddies that hung there. With four cuts in hand, Blair made her way to the dressing room with his heated stare after her.

Blair quickly shed her clothes, then put on the first one. It was a black lace teddy that was cut rather primly. It covered most of her ass, and even had lace covering the swell of her breast. Pearls lined the lower half of the bra cups. She pushed her hair back so that it fell on her back. When she looked at the reflection of her back in the mirror, she grinned. Where it was conservative in front, it more than made up for in the back. The cut there was so long she could see the hollow of her spine towards her tailbone.

She pushed the curtain back. Chuck sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"First," she declared.

Chuck cleared his throat.

"What do you think?"

Chuck took a deep breath. His eyes fell to her bare shoulders. "Gorgeous. Wrap it up."

Blair grinned, then wagged her finger at him teasingly. "There are more choices, Mr Bass. Sit still." She closed the curtains again, then changed into a yellow skin tight camisole with a simple satin bow ribbon at the dip that revealed her cleavage.

She flung the curtain open and showed it to him.

Chuck's hand closed over his throat as he stretched his neck, almost as if he was stressed.

"Are you tired, Mr Bass?" she teased. "You have no stamina anymore." And then, daringly, she stepped out of the dressing room into the almost empty boutique and padded barefoot to Chuck. She whispered into his ear, "You are so out of exercise." And then, with an unquestionable lick to the shell of his ear, she declared, "Maybe later I'll exhaust you."

"Sweetheart, I think you should take it easy."

She straightened, then arched an eyebrow. "I'm out of bedrest. I intend to make every minute worth it." Because really, with twins, no one knew how quickly she was going to get sent back to bed with her feet propped high again. She intended to be the perfect unabandonable—if that was even a word—wife there was. "Stay still. I have some more."

She stepped back into the dressing room and changed into a pristine white teddy cut high on the thighs that it almost showed her hipbones. The material was satin, soft to the touch. When she stepped back outside, she said with a grin. "Don't I look like a virgin?"

"Like a virgin sacrifice," he mumbled. He adjusted himself in his seat, much to Blair's delight. This would be so easy.

She flitted away when he reached for her. "Patience, Mr Bass," she admonished.

"Cocktease."

"Oh no. Cockteases never follow through. I intend to follow through over and over tonight."

Chuck hissed. "We're not having sex, Blair. I'm not going to risk it."

She narrowed her eyes, then stomped back to the dressing room then changed into the killer corset teddy she had reserved last. It was fire engine red, and the corset stretched over her stomach and pushed up her breasts until they almost spilled from the top. Blair pulled up the thigh high red stockings that came with it, then snapped the red garters into place. She pouted her lips, then parted the curtains.

"I pity you, Mr Bass, because I can tell you right now you can't ever say no to this."

Chuck squeezed his eyes tight. But even then, she could tell by the small smile on his lips, that he could still see her. "Blair," he groaned, "I'm trying to be a good husband. Let's give it a few more days and see if you're really all better."

So she resolved to convince him. She made her way to him and settled her bare ass on his lap, grateful for the relative privacy of the high end store's dressing area. Chuck's thigh clenched tight. She chuckled. "And I'm trying to be a good wife." She placed her hands on his cheeks, then nipped at his lower lip. Blair squirmed closer against him. She could him harden against her leg. To be fair, he was not denying that he was turned on. But he was foolish enough to believe he had more willpower. "Come on, Chuck." She said into her ear. "I miss you inside me."

Chuck abruptly stood up, and she would have fallen if he did not grab her arms and haul her up against him. His mouth was somewhat forceful and frantic when he kissed her, and she gave a choked cry of surprise when he buried his tongue in her mouth. "I love you."

"I love you too," she responded.

"—but you're not winning this," he warned.

Was that a hint of a challenge she heard in his voice? "Really now?"

He smirked. "Really." He swatted her ass gently, then pushed her towards the dressing room. "Now change."

"Wait," she called out laughingly as she closed the door behind him. "Which one did you like best?"

"Give them to me," he instructed. Blair changed out of the red teddy and its accompanying stockings and garter support. With her arm shielding her breasts, Blair thrust all four to Chuck. She blushed when he held up the discarded items to his nose and breathed in. "I'm getting all of them."

Blair grinned, then let the curtain fall so she could change back into her dress. She suggested another trip to the baby store, so that they could get another crib. It was her yawn, her stupid yawn, that cut the trip short. Chuck called for the limo and assisted her inside. When he settled beside her, he pulled her to rest beside him. Chuck wrapped an arm around her shoulders, then kissed the top of her head.

"I'll wake you when we're home," he assured her.

Blair rolled her eyes. She rested a hand on his thigh, then eased it down to his knee and squeezed. Chuck jerked at the unexpected sensation. Chuck stiffened in his seat when her fingers played over his pants to the juncture of his thighs. He clapped a hand over hers.

"Blair," he said in warning.

"Yes, Chuck?" she responded innocently.

"I thought you were going to sleep."

She smiled, then turned her face so that she could kiss his shoulder. "I never said that. You assumed I was going to sleep."

"You yawned," he pointed out.

Blair's lips curved, and she brushed gentle kisses to his collarbone. Chuck placed a hand on her lower back. Blair knelt on the leather seat of the limo as she draped herself over him. Chuck rested back in his seat. Blair straddled him, then sat down on his thighs. She placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed his mouth.

"Do you remember the first time?" she asked softly.

His nostrils flared. He looked up at her and her hair fell on either side of her face. He nodded. "I'll never forget."

"I miss that," she confessed. She rubbed up against him, and his hands settled on her waist. "You know when we're not thinking about so many things, when it's just you and me and there are no rules and no responsibilities. Back then we could have sex anywhere we want."

He arched up and kissed the crook of her neck. Blair's head fell back and allowed him to explore. "You know," he said, "we didn't change too much. But there are responsibilities now. I don't want us to hurt the babies."

"And the doctor said it was okay," she insisted. Blair cupped him with one hand, causing him to buck up in his seat. "Pretty please."

Chuck shuddered in relief when the limo stopped in front of their apartment. He picked up the small La Perla paper bag, then held out the door for her to step outside. Blair quickly walked beside him on the way to the elevator. Chuck pushed the call button. Blair looked down at her hands, assessing if she should change the color.

Chuck nodded towards the security guard.

The elevator doors slid open. Chuck extended his arm so she could step inside. Blair walked into the elevator cab. Chuck stepped in after her. The security guard stepped forward, but Blair held out her hand to stop him. "Take the next one, Mario."

Chuck's eyes widened. He turned to look at Blair. Blair's grinned, then threw herself on him. Chuck dropped the La Perla paper bag as he slammed back against the elevator wall. Blair hiked one leg over his hip. He helped lift her so she could wrap her other leg around his waist. His mouth parted automatically when she delved in with tongue and teeth and lips.

Chuck felt the swell of her breast brush under his chin. He buried his nose in his cleavage. Blair's fingers flew to the buttons of her dress as she loosened it to give Chuck more skin.

"Best wife ever," he gasped.

Blair giggled. She glanced at the camera in the elevator, then flushed. "Okay, okay," she cried. "We're taking this to the bedroom."

Chuck allowed her to slide down on her feet, then picked up the fallen La Perla bag. Blair slid her hand into his pants pocket, making him glare at her when her fingers teased his penis. With a grin, she fished out his key card. Blair plunged it into the slot. The elevator doors opened to their apartment. Blair skipped all the way to their bedroom.

She unbuttoned her dress and tossed it to the foot of the bed, then hopped onto the sheets and lay down on her side. Blair's lips curved into a welcoming smile. When Chuck turn up, she frowned. Blair's eyes narrowed, and she held her breath and she tried to listen in.

Chuck was calling her OB!

She pursed her lips, then walked to the closet. Blair pulled out her nightgown, the one that tied into a ribbon at the nape of her neck. Blair rushed to the bathroom and took the bottle of perfume that he had bought for her. She waited until Chuck hung up, then walked out of the bedroom. It had worked before, not to fruition but it had worked in turning him on. Back then, the only reason he had not made love to her was their game of who said I love you first. And that was out of the equation now.

Blair made her way towards him. When Chuck spotted him, he almost seemed afraid of her.

Of her.

Ridiculous.

"The doctor agrees with me," he pronounced, as if trying to fend her off. "She said you're safe, but it's safer if we want to wait a few more days."

Blair sighed. "She's right. I'm exhausted." Chuck sighed in relief. Blair turned to show him the back of the nightgown. "Unsnap my bra. It's starting to get too tight. My breasts are sore."

Chuck hooked his fingers under the back strap, and unsnapped the bra as he was requested. "We should have gotten you more comfortable bras too."

She felt his fingers wander to the skin of her back. "Bigger cups," she suggested. She could not help the smirk on her face, and was glad he could not see.

"Yeah. Bigger," he said in a tight voice.

"Tie the ribbon."

Chuck's fingers splayed on her bare shoulders as his hands slowly climbed to the ribbons. His thumbs brushed her nape. Blair grinned. She felt his lips on the back of her neck. "You smell amazing."

"You like it?" She felt his nod against her nape. "You gave it to me."

"I make the best choices," he murmured.

He moved closer, and Blair could feel him straining against her ass.

"Oh shit," he mumbled. Chuck hurried away from her.

Blair watched him rush towards the bathroom with a grin. She sighed, satisfied. Almost there. Blair twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. She followed him, and heard the shower running. Blair peered inside the bathroom and felt the cool air.

Cold shower.

She shook her head, then let the nightgown pool to the floor.

She bit her lip with a grin, then walked to the shower area. She pushed the shower door open. Chuck turned, his wet hair plastered on the top of his head. He turned and saw her, naked, leaning against the glass shower door.

"Really, Chuck?" she called over the running water. "Cold shower when I'm right here?" Blair looked down pointedly at his straining member. "I mean, poor boy."

Chuck's gaze fell to himself, then his eyes raked over her body, focused on the swollen breasts and the very slight curve of her belly. "Ah hell," he muttered. He took her hand then pulled her towards him. Blair squealed at the cold water. He drew her up against his bare body. She felt his slick, wet skin against hers. Blair sighed in satisfaction.

"I win," she chuckled.

Chuck's hands moved to cup her ass and pull her close. "That's what you think." His teeth nipped at her ear. "What if I was just playing hard to get so you'd throw yourself at me?"

"Oh!" She laughed. "You'll say anything to pretend you don't lose, won't you?"

Chuck wrapped his arms tightly around her waist as they kissed under the water. She was a little tender, and almost unused to the contact. Blair gripped his shoulders when he first entered her. She closed her eyes, then grunted as she adjusted to him. Chuck pulled out, and she grabbed his ass.

"Wait, wait, no. It's okay."

"You're not comfortable," he said.

"It's just been too long," she assured him. "I'll adjust."

Chuck gave her a smirk, then dropped a kiss on his nose. "Just a few minutes. This won't take long." Blair groaned in frustration. And then, her eyes widened when Chuck fell to his knees at her feet. He closed his hand around her ankle. "Won't take long at all," he said. Chuck rested her thigh over his shoulder. Blair gasped. Chuck turned his lips to kiss her inner thigh. She held her breath when he turned his lips and devoured her. His tongue plunged inside over and over until she saw stars explode behind her eyelids. Blair's head fell back, and she let out a silent scream.

Her knees buckled, and he held tight to keep her upright. Chuck gripped her waist, then pressed her back against the wall.

Blair tasted herself on his lips when he kissed her. His hands were firm on the backs of her thighs now as he opened her to him. She was slick with her orgasm, and his fingers dipped in her. He spread some of her on the head of his penis. He teased her first, and Blair trembled in anticipation.

"Please, Chuck."

His neck strained with the effort to hold himself in check. Blair bit playfully on his collarbone. With a smooth flex of his hips, Chuck slid inside deeply.

Blair felt him sliding in, out, smoothly and with measured thrusts. "I missed you," she whispered with an openmouthed kiss on his cheek. "Love you. So much."

His hand splayed on her stomach. Chuck pumped into her, then jerked as he spilled himself inside.

Later, Chuck and Blair fell onto the bed for another round. This time, she was on top. For practice, he told her. When she was bigger, it would be one of the limited ways they could make love. She fell on top of him, spent and limp. She could not wait to learn the other ways.

The bed was going to smell when the shower water dried, because it had not been aired out. She did not care. She thought she even fell asleep with her mouth open she was so exhausted. Blair woke up still on top of him a few hours later. She pulled herself up, careful not to wake him. She stood up gingerly, a little sore from too much making love. Her husband was naked on the bed, his hair mussed with the way his hair dried. He was going to have bedhead. And he was straining already with a morning erection. Blair shook her head. She needed to cover him up.

She found the blanket kicked to the floor at the foot of the bed. Blair leaned down to pick it up. When she stood, she felt the world spin around her. She sat heavily down on the edge of the bed, then rested her head on the sheets.

When the world was stable, she shook the blanket to cover him. And then she picked up a bedrobe from the dresser and threw it over herself. Blair then strode to the bathroom and threw up in the sink. Fortunately, he did not wake up.

She exhausted him.

Just like she promised.

Blair sighed. She brushed her teeth, then gargled. She glanced back at Chuck. He was going to remember tonight. And he would be sure there was nothing about her that could be left behind. He was practically begging when she was above him, controlling their speed and his depth. She loved it.

Now on to the next part of her plan.

She walked over to the briefcase that Chuck brought home with him. Blair unsnapped the lock and took the two binders that had the project updates. Barefoot and in her bedrobe, Blair took the documents with her to the kitchen and turned to the first page. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and splashed milk over it. Blair munched on her food while she went through anything she missed.

Three hours later, the two binders were knocked down. Her father did a fabulous job in Europe. And the Australian proposal that Chuck had been given sounded strong and profitable.

The stone was rolling and it was amazing. Chuck was going to singlehandedly save Bass Industries.

She always knew she got a good one.

Blair pulled herself up on her feet. She checked the clock. She had two hours before school started, and she needed to figure out how behind she was. It should not be too much. She had missed only two weeks, and she had handed in as many assignments as she could through that period that she was on bedrest.

She took her books from her bag, then made her way back to the kitchen. She checked her phone and went back to the messages that Serena sent her. At Blair command, Serena sent her the pages the class took each day.

"Two seventy eight to two ninety two."

Blair pulled up her knees against her chest, then started with the chapter.

tbc

AN Don't let my rant discourage you. I do enjoy reading your comments. lol


	28. Chapter 28

**Part 28**

Serena clapped her hands in excitement as the limo parked outside Eleanor's boutique. She turned to Blair, and grinned. "It's good to see you back in your uniform, B," she had greeted her best friend when Blair arrived that morning before the school bell rang. It had been a surprise even to her, a delightful one, when Chuck walked Blair to the gate.

At that sight, Serena moved away from her posse and ran towards her best friend and her stepbrother. Serena pointed her Blair's uniform and inquired, "Are you back?"

"Last few weeks, S."

"You're graduating with us?"

It was Chuck who answered first, "We're hoping Blair didn't miss out on too much these past two weeks. Queller seemed hopeful on the phone."

Blair waved that away. "Of course I'm graduating with you. Even after missing so much, I'm still way ahead of a lot of other people here."

He chuckled, then pulled her up against him as he kissed her goodbye. "That's what I adore about you. You're even more arrogant than I am."

She grinned cockily, then added, "It's not arrogance when it's the truth." Blair turned and winked at Serena, who watched them dreamily. "Tell him, S."

Serena gave Chuck a lopsided grin. "I've got more pending assignments than she does."

"You're not a good example, sis. You and I haven't actually been stellar students."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Fine. Dan has more delayed papers than she does. How many more do you have to submit?" Serena asked Blair. "Four?"

Blair gave a triumphant smile. She opened her binder and showed them two sliding folders. "All done. I did them all last night."

Chuck furrowed his brows, then arched his eyebrows at her. "Last night? After we—While I was sleeping?"

Blair nodded. "While you were recovering," she said. "Like a delicate little flower."

"Oh really?" He laughed. "You're gonna get it tonight. I'm going to tire you out you won't even be able to get up to go to bed."

"Promise?" she whispered seductively.

"You bet."

"Wait, wait—" Serena chimed in. "Too tired to go to bed. Where do you do it?"

Chuck grinned. "You really want to know?"

The school bell rang, and Serena released a sigh of relief. "Well, looks like you have to go," she told Chuck. Serena looped her arm around Blair's. "We have class."

Blair tugged at Chuck's arm. Chuck allowed her to pull him, and bumped Serena out of the way. "I'm off to the torture chambers where the board will again insist on Jack to take part of his project."

"Well, you should consider it," Blair advised. "Jack is a smart guy. And he'll be way out in Australia where he can't bother you."

"I'll miss you," he said into her lips.

"If he can get us profits, it will take a load off your shoulders. And you get to spend more time with me and the kids."

"The kids?" he repeated softly. "Little Chuck and Blair. Alright. I'll consider it, Mrs Bass."

Chuck waved at the two of them as Serena and Blair made their way to their classes. Blair turned, then spotted the cellphone cameras recording the return of the queen. In response, she blew a kiss towards Chuck.

After school, Blair invited Serena to go to her mother's shop with her. "To fit your maid of honor dress," she told Serena.

Serena gasped, and asked, "I'm going to be maid of honor, B?"

"Oh please," Blair exclaimed. "Like you were actually worried that you won't be."

Serena smirked. They emerged out into the courtyard and towards the waiting limo. "And your carriage awaits."

They rode to the shop. When the limo stopped, Serena pushed open the door and could barely make it out with the half dozen photographers blocking the way. She turned to Blair with wide eyes. "B, is it always this crazy?"

"Since the honeymoon," Blair answered. "Wait a few seconds."

Serena glanced uncertainly at the paparazzi. "You think they'll go away in a few seconds?" she said in disbelief.

"No, but they're going to make them." Blair nodded towards the giant bodyguards that parked behind the limo. "Like magic," she added. "That's Jerry. And over there," she pointed at the one with dirty blonde hair, "is Ben."

"Ben and Jerry?"

"That's what Chuck said."

Serena clutched at Blair's arm. "Are they carrying firearms?" She squinted.

Blair giggled. Ben and Jerry opened their long black umbrellas, their usual weapons to shield Blair and Chuck from unwanted exposure. She had gotten used to this. "Let's go."

Serena hesitated.

"So, go. Straight into the shop."

Serena exited, then hurried down the pavement. Blair followed after. The door closed on the shop, and they collapsed on the couch inside Eleanor's shop, giggling. Blair turned and saw her mother watching them with her hands on her hips. "Well, you two finally made it." Eleanor nodded outside. "The paparazzi scared away most of my customers."

"Mom!" Blair greeted. "You don't need customers." She bounced up to her feet. "Come on. Show me the dresses!"

Eleanor nodded, then gestured to her employees. "Alright, ladies, let's show Ms van der Woodsen her dress."

"You're going to love it," Blair told her best friend. "I worked on it with mom."

"Oh so you had time to work on the design of my dress. Should I be scared?"

"You'll see." Blair grinned. "You're going to be gorgeous, S."

"Not as gorgeous as my wife."

Blair turned, then broke into a large smile when she spotted Chuck standing by the doorway. She ran towards him and threw her arms around him. "I didn't think you could come." When she pulled away, Blair tugged at his necktie. "You have back to back meetings today."

"I had a cancellation. I'm free for the next two hours."

Blair smiled. "And you came to find me."

"Always." He kissed the corner of her lips. "And I heard that your mother tried to make me a tux."

Eleanor huffed. "Who told you that?"

"Dorota," Chuck answered. Eleanor threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. "It's alright, Eleanor. If you want to expand to men's wear, I would be the perfect model. Use me to announce your new market to the world."

"Mom," Blair complained, "are you going to use my wedding as a marketing gimmick?"

"I am not," Eleanor huffed. "But I am providing you all the gowns. I wanted to test the reception to an Eleanor original tux."

"Let's see it," Chuck offered.

"It's not finished."

"I have two hours, Mrs Rose." Chuck shrugged. "Let's try it on."

Eleanor nodded. "You'll have it in the fitting room."

Chuck looked at Blair. He kissed her nose, then walked towards the fitting room. Blair sat on the couch and crossed her legs. Eleanor nodded.

"Enjoy it. You won't be able to do that in a few months."

Blair grinned. "So you heard about the twins!"

"Sweetheart, I don't know why you insist on telling your father everything before you tell me?"

Blair shrugged. "We haven't exactly been on the same wavelength for years, mom."

"You and your father may have shared a lot all these years, sweetheart, but believe me, you'll learn more from me throughout this pregnancy than you would him."

"Mom," Blair said, reaching for her mother's hand, "you're right. It just takes time to get used to the idea, you know."

Eleanor nodded, then patted Blair's hand. "You look happy. Charles is completely in love with you. All in all, you aren't doing too badly for yourself."

"So." Blair took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for not telling you beforehand. But yes, mom, I am going to have two babies."

"Two Bass babies," Eleanor injected. "Lord, that would be chaos!"

"I can handle it," Blair said confidently.

One of Eleanor's assistants discreetly cleared her throat. Eleanor turned and asked, "What is it, Paulette?"

Paulette blushed, then said, "Miss Blair, Mr Bass is asking for you."

Eleanor and Blair made their way closer to the fitting room. "Charles," Eleanor called out, "what do you need?"

"Mrs Rose," Chuck called from inside the fitting room, "will you send my wife in here please? I need her help with these buttons."

Eleanor arched an eyebrow at Paulette, gesturing for her to go inside. "Well, if Mr Bass has to call on my daughter for assistance, that means you still haven't been trained well, have you?" When the assistant hesitated, Eleanor made a shooing motion. "Go, go!"

Blair watched as Paulette knocked, then was grabbed. Paulette squealed, then stumbled out of the fitting room. Paulette turned panicked eyes at Blair and Eleanor. "Mr Bass is asking for Miss Blair, Mrs Rose."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes, then realized what the girl meant. She nodded at Blair. Blair walked over to the fitting room door, then knocked. She found herself pulled inside. Blair chuckled, then let Chuck press her back against the wall. "Shame on you," she admonished. "You scared Paulette."

"I was asking for you," he said with his raspy voice. "I missed you all day." He leaned to whisper in her ear, "And you look so hot in your uniform. Reminds me when we were younger."

Blair laughed. Her fingers played with the hairs on his nape. "We're one year older than when we hooked up?"

"Really," he responded, trailing kisses down her neck. "Seems like we've been together a lifetime."

Chuck fingers started popping her buttons one at a time.

"Paulette mentioned you needed help with the buttons," she gasped, when he latched on to one of her nipples. "They look fine."

"Need help getting out of them and getting inside you," he answered.

"Oh you're right. Paulette isn't trained to do that," Blair pointed out. Her hands slid down to his pants. "So this is a booty call in between meetings? Mr Bass," she teased, "that sounds very much like a corporate asswipe to me. But I like it."

The knock on the door made her jerk. She stopped, but Chuck did not. Instead, Chuck started pulling up her skirt uniform and pulling down her panties.

"Will you two consider going home?"

"Oh God!" Blair exclaimed, flushing at the sound of her mother's voice.

Chuck let go of her panties and they dropped around her ankles. He smirked at the way she looked, with her blouse open and her breasts out of the bra he had pushed down. Her lips were swollen with his kisses. Blair saw her lipstick smeared on his mouth. She opened her mouth. Chuck clapped his palm over it.

"We don't know what you're talking about, Mrs Rose. We're having a private conversation."

Blair could practically hear her mother scoff, and Serena coughing to cover her laughter.

"Sweetheart, if you two insist on this, slide the tux out from under the door. I need to make sure it doesn't get ruined."

Chuck grinned, then tossed the items in a pile and slid it out. Small feminine hands grabbed the attire quickly. Chuck turned back to his wife, and her tousled appearance. "You look like you've already had a romp."

Blair shook her head. "You're naked," she pointed out.

"I'm usually very conservative," Chuck responded, "but you're mother insisted that I strip."

She nodded. "So I heard."

"Blair, sweetheart, I'm taking everyone out for some snacks. Serena is coming with us. If you're leaving before we get back, lock up."

They stayed quietly giggling, pressed up against each other inside Eleanor's fitting room. The door closed with a thud. Chuck smirked. "I love your mother!"

Blair grabbed him by his cheeks then pulled him down for another kiss.

"Are you ready to marry me this weekend?" she asked.

"I was born ready to marry you. Just took me a while to realize that," he said. Chuck hiked up her thighs around her hips, then thrust inside her. Blair rested her cheek on his shoulder. "This is it, Blair," he said into her hair, pushing up inside her, building their rhythm. She clutched at his shoulders. "This is how it's going to be forever."

tbc


	29. Chapter 29

**Part 29**

The wedding of the year.

It was the wedding of the year, and four hundred people were in attendance at the church alone. There were even more people coming to the hotel for the reception. They had talked about allowing thirty photographers into the event, just to avoid the chaos of fending them off and having them chase them from the ceremony to the dinner.

There were at least half a dozen tv cameras that documented the event for segments on the young, the rich, the famous.

And they were all going to see his humiliation. Chuck tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was too tight. He was suffocating. And he was going to be mad as hell if she didn't show up. Chuck grabbed Nate's wrist. Nate clapped a hand over the face of his watch, then tried pulling his arm away. Chuck tugged. "Show me."

"They're probably caught in traffic!" Nate insisted, trying to pry his arm away.

Who was he kidding? He would be devastated.

Chuck let go of Nate so abruptly his best man stumbled.

"I hope you're ready to get that pretty face mangled, Archibald," Chuck mumbled. "If she doesn't show, I'm taking it out on you."

"What the hell did I do now?" Nate sighed.

"That's why you're best man."

Chuck hid his glee at the thought. At least he would take Nathaniel with him if he was going to suffer.

Still, there was nothing comparable to the moment when the organ started playing, and the wedding march began. Chuck straightened from his post at the front of the church. The guests turned, and his breath left his body quickly at the sight. Her figure bathed in Eleanor's creation, and it was big, elegant, completely unrestrained. She appeared every inch a fairy tale princess, like she had stepped out of a book.

When he first saw her wearing that, off white and silver and sparkling with those crystals, he had thought her beautiful. But now, with the lights shining on her, making her glow while she stood on her father's arm.

His eyes burned, and he lowered his face, pressed his knuckles into his eyes.

"Shit, man," he heard Nate grumble from his side. "What are you doing?"

Chuck knew he should probably be ashamed. He was leaking. He hadn't leaked, seriously. Not even when his father died. He drowned himself in alcohol, and shot himself up with drugs. And now he saw the most beautiful sight in the world and that was what made him cry.

"Shit," Chuck replied, sniffling and keeping his tears in check.

"Man—"

"I know," Chuck replied through gritted teeth. "I'm trying."

He looked up, holding it in. He was brave, and strong. But Harold was walking her down the aisle and she looked like she was floating—like angels floated—all the way towards him. Chuck quickly lowered his head, then fumbled for the white silk handkerchief tucked in his chest pocket for style. Silk handkerchiefs weren't meant to actually be used.

Then he felt Nate pushing a folded linen handkerchief into his hand. Chuck wiped at his eyes, then cleared his throat.

And she was smiling at him, through the veil. He could see. She was smiling and she was happy. Like she was opening the best Christmas gift in the world. Like for her birthday he gave her more than a thirty thousand necklace. Like he was the best present she ever received.

Shit.

Nate's handkerchief was going to be completely ruined.

When she was only a few feet away, and Harold was handing her to him, Chuck released his breath. "Where were you?" he demanded, without a trace of anger in his voice. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Her hand closed around his, and he was so choked up all he could do was pull her to his side, clutch her hand so tightly that she wouldn't ever escape. "Like you ever really thought I would stand you up. I'm not mean like you," she teased.

He shook his head. "No you're not."

"I got sick," she said by way of explanation.

"The twins?"

She nodded, then kissed his cheek. "I love you so much."

Chuck felt his throat close. And then, Nate tapped his shoulder. Chuck turned, then accepted the fresh handkerchief that Nate thrust towards him.

He would remember that ceremony forever. She promised him everything, and he listened and watched her lips move under the white veil. When he was asked for his vows, he swore the world to her. They had kissed a thousand times before, but the kiss that came afterwards was sweet, simple. It sent his world thrumming.

They did not hear the applause. He was drowning in the drumbeat of his own heart. The entire planet fell away from his vision the moment he heard the minister declare them married, and he took her in his arms, lifted her veil, and met her lips with his.

He could not wait for his turn, itched for her when Harold danced the father and daughter dance with her on the dancefloor of the Palace. When Chuck saw Cyrus make his way to the two, Chuck nearly yelled out his frustration. Instead he kept a smile on his face and waited out the song as Cyrus spun, with much effort when he tried to twirl Blair, and he had to stand on tiptoes while Blair crouched.

And then they were dancing towards him. Cyrus bowed in courtesy, and Chuck grinned when he pulled Blair to him. "Finally," he declared. "You're back where you belong, Mrs Bass."

"Did you miss me?" she asked, her eyes fluttering with the knowledge that she did not need to ask about.

No one.

There was no one in the world more satisfied than they, no one in the entire planet who was as confident in a relationship as the two of them.

They were unbreakable.

Even with a honeymoon that had been pushed behind to allow her to catch up with school, Blair Waldorf-Bass still flourished in school. She had caught in within days of her return, and she was so sure she had valedictorian locked. No one with a comparable amount of extra-curricular activities had better grades than she did. It was one or the other for many of them. No one could balance as well as Blair.

She was three months pregnant, showing a little because she was having two of course, when she agreed to play a part in the school play. Chuck was supposed to be in a business meeting with an Indonesia supplier of the laps he wanted for the lobby of each floor of the first building. When Nate had laughingly texted him a jpeg of the script, Chuck dumped his meeting and suddenly popped on the front row.

He had the perfect view of his wife kissing Dan Humphrey on the stage.

She was four months along, considerably bigger of course, when she fitted a gown that Eleanor wanted her to wear for prom. No matter how hard Eleanor's assistants tried, the gown would not close. Blair stalked to the bathroom and found herself staring at the disgusting roundness of her cheeks.

That night, when Chuck arrived at half past ten, right when she had almost fallen asleep on the kitchen table, she kissed him. He had kissed her back, told her he missed her, then invited her to come to bed.

Within minutes he was asleep.

"Chuck," she said softly, "I want to have sex."

"Hmmm," he replied, humming. "Me too." And then he yawned. "Tomorrow, Blair."

Four days, and each time he went home later. Eleven. Eleven thirty. Twelve. And then two. She never woke for it. That was what he told her in the morning while she knelt in front of the toilet bowl heaving the contents of her stomach.

Valedictorian was announced early, to give time for the student to write the commencement speech. Blair clutched her books close to her chest as she made her way to the taped list outside the headmistress' office. But Serena beat her to it, and tried to steer her away. It was her first clue. Blair pulled her arm away and then walked to the list.

"This is not fair!" she cried out.

"Honey, it was a few points."

"Decimals, S!" she exclaimed. "I have done a ton more work for the school than Nelly has!"

She had been angry, and humiliated. Blair called for the limo and within seconds from dismissal she was on her way to Bass. She ignored the photographers, almost did not notice her bodyguards. Blair punched the button for his office. When she got off the elevator, she spotted the unfamiliar girl who was sitting in Gina's seat.

"Yes, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to see Mr Bass," Blair announced, striding straight past the girl and to Chuck's door.

The girl shot up from her seat and then covered the doorway. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't inside without Mr Bass' permission."

"Get out of my way," Blair said in soft warning.

"I'm sorry I can't do that—"

Blair's eyes narrowed. The girl was beautiful, with straight blonde hair falling past her back. The girl was tall, svelte, like an underweight model. Chuck used to love the look. "Mrs Bass," she said.

"Excuse me?" stammered the girl.

"It's Mrs Bass," Blair clarified. She held up her hand, showing the glittering rock. "Now get out of my way." Blair turned to look at the nameplate. "Tamara."

The girl stumbled away. Blair pushed the door open and saw Chuck talking on the phone. He looked up and grinned at her. She walked over to him and then threw her arms around her husband. And then, despite trying to hold it all in, she started crying into his chest.

Chuck's arm went up in circles on his back. He put the phone on mute. "What's wrong, Blair?"

Blair shook her head. Chuck said a curt goodbye, then hung up the phone. She bit her lower lip. "Nelly Yuki got valedictorian," she cried. And then she bawled, "And my mom made me a prom dress that doesn't fit."

And he got a sexy young assistant to replace Gina while she was busy with school.

"Don't worry about the dress. I got you something. Well, I chose the design and had Tamara pick it up."

Tamara arrived with a freshly pressed laundry bag. She unzipped the bag and presented Blair with the gorgeous dress. Blair took the dress with her to the bathroom, then tried it on.

When she put it on, the gown would not go down her stomach, burst apart in the seams. "It doesn't fit," she realized. It didn't fit, but then Tamara just wanted to show her she could do it.

Oh God.

She was a failure in school; she couldn't even do anything for Bass Industries that impacted enough to bring in more profits than the original plan.

And now Chuck could see how much of a whale she had gotten while that Barbie doll strutted around her husband every day.

She leaned over the sink and threw up.

She heard the running water, looked up and saw Chuck squeezing water out of his handkerchief. He pressed the cool cloth on her temples.

"It's not morning," he said softly. "The kids aren't behaving, are they? Always making mommy sick."

She shook her head, sniffled, then heaved.

tbc


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: **So this one was thirty chapters in the making, coalescing only in the last few. Kudos to the two of you who kinda guessed where it was leading.

**Part 30**

Blair had been in the office when Jack arrived. Chuck had promised her a new dress, one that he vowed would fit her. When Tamara brought in the box, and again gushed an apology for not recognizing her the day she came in, Blair touched the lid of the box uncertainly.

And then she pushed the box away.

Tamara's eyes widened. "Don't you want it, Mrs Bass? It's a gorgeous gown."

Blair's lips thinned. "I don't want it," she stated clearly.

Chuck's phone rang. He waved Tamara away, then picked up the phone. Before the temp stepped out of the room, he clapped his hand on the mic and instructed, "Leave the box." Tamara nodded and placed the box on the table in front of the couch. Blair glared at Chuck while Chuck took the call.

She waited twenty minutes before the call ended. By the time it did, she was almost halfway though the Australian project projections.

"This is astounding," Blair said. "I knew there was a lot of potential for growth there. The market is untapped and the land is a lot cheaper than in Manhattan. This is probably your best forecast yet."

His voice was curt when he said, "That's Jack's."

She had always known what Jack Bass lacked in class he made up for in business sense. He had admitted as much when he asked her out to dinner while Chuck was gone. The one thorn in his side was Bart's assignment of him to faraway Australia. It was a fact that Blair suspected was a show of faith. Australia and the Pacific was one of the fastest growing markets in the world.

It was growing faster than Europe.

"We should have thought of this," she muttered. They would have projected more impressive numbers too. She and Chuck—they could have done better. But these had to come from Jack.

Constance was right. Valedictorians are supposed to be intelligent. They were supposed to have foresight. A true intelligent person would have considered the Asian markets before considering Europe, should have considered Europe before considering the US.

She and Chuck--they were amateurs. And Chuck had so much to think about that the idea should have occurred to her.

They were playing at a game they had no business playing.

"Why don't you want it?" Chuck asked when he approached her after the call. "I picked it."

She looked up at Chuck, then pursed her lips. "I don't plan on getting humiliated again trying to fit something that isn't big enough."

"Well I want to see it," he argued.

"Then have Barbie doll wear it," she snapped.

"Barbie—" his voice trailed off. And then the confusion on his face cleared. "Tamara?"

"Yes, Tamara," she repeated, her voice scathing. "If you want someone modeling for you, get her to wear it and strut up and down the carpet while you smoke your precious cigars and drink your scotch behind your desk."

He chuckled. It was a mistake. He apologized, then shook his head. "First of all, I haven't had a cigar or a drink since I promised you, so that is ridiculous."

She had to hand it to him. He had stayed off the alcohol like he committed. But she had not known about the cigars. The image she had of him shifted, and the glass in his left hand and the cigar on his right disappeared into thin air.

Now his free to do other things. She shuddered.

It was like he knew every expression on his face, because right then his face turned into one of horror. "Hell, no," he exclaimed.

"Why not? When you gave me the red dress before Italy and you asked me to model it for you, I know what you were really doing with your right hand."

His eyes narrowed. He did not refute the statement. "Well Blair," he argued, "there's a world of difference between that and what you're suggesting." He strode towards her, then opened the box, revealed the black dress with gold threaded pattern knitting on the front. "I am in love with you. I was in love with you long before I married you."

"I know the difference. I'm fat and she's hot."

His lips quirked. "You think?"

She sighed in exasperation, then nodded.

"Then I must have gone selectively blind," Chuck told her, "because I don't see that. I only see my wife." He pulled her up to stand in front of him, then pulled her close. He leaned his head to capture her lips. "Every day I see you I take note of how much rounder your breasts are, and how your hips flare under hands." The thought made her smile, because she definitely noticed how he stared at her boobs. "When I get home and you're already asleep—"

"Which is almost every day now," she sniffed.

"Sometimes I would just stare at you for the longest time. And I think your lips are plumper, and your hair is shinier, and your cheeks are smoother than the morning when I left."

"That's your imagination," she whispered.

"No. You get more and more beautiful every day," he told her. "I should know. I see you. Even when you think the day is so long that you don't get to see me anymore, when I have to leave for the office before you wake up, and come home after you've fallen asleep, I look at you." She took a deep breath. "And I see the most beautiful woman in the entire world carrying my babies."

She closed her eyes, and then his lips were on her cheeks, moving, searching. Kissing her tears away.

"Now will you please wear the dress?" he requested. "I knew it was yours the moment I saw it. If anyone else wears it—" he added, without mentioning a name, "she would sadly pale in comparison to how I imagined you when I decided it would be perfect on you."

Finally, she nodded. She took the gown with her to the bathroom, then placed it on the marble sink. Blair leaned over the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingers were tentative when she touched her lips.

Plumper, he said.

They were dry, she saw. Some of the skin was breaking. She needed more water. The baby was draining her, and she needed to get more water in her body so that her lips would not be so chapped up. He must have noticed it when he was kissing her.

Chuck Bass was too polite to comment on it. She would buy some new gloss and put it on before bed, so that when he got home and looked at her while she slept, he wouldn't notice how ugly they were getting.

Her fingers went to her hair.

Shinier, he said.

They crinkled under her touch. They were hard and crisp like they were fried. She had to remember to go to the salon, and make sure they moisturized it well. She would have wanted to undergo some hair treatments, but they told her she couldn't have any until after she was no longer lactating. Chuck would have to suffer with the ugliness for several more months, maybe even a year.

They hadn't decided how long she was going to nurse the babies.

And those would ruin her breasts so completely Chuck was never going to want to touch her nipples again.

Her fingers moved to her cheeks.

Smoother, he said.

And that was a complete lie. She had a zit somewhere on her cheeks every day. It was an imbalance in the hormones. Her OB told her to expect it. Even today, there was a pimple on her jaw. If Chuck stared at her while she slept, he saw. And he just kept lying. Because she was fat and hormonal and he knew she was insecure.

Stupid Chuck.

Tamara was just the perfect figure, and she had the features he always liked when they were younger. Hell, everyone else in the Upper East Side looked better than she did.

What she had, over all of the girls that Chuck had been attracted to over the years, were her brains. She was more driven, smarter than any of them. But she could not even compete for valedictorian—her absence killed her school standing. Her feasibility study, the one that convinced Chuck and the board to green light his first project, was nothing compared to Jack's.

The profit margin now looked ridiculously unambitious juxtaposed with Jack's Australia Pacific plan.

She felt the bile rise from her gut to her chest, and she rested on her elbows and waited. She heard the familiar gurgling noise, felt her throat contract and her back tighten.

The splashing sound her vomit made on the sink was almost a comfort. She squeezed her eyes tight and heaved.

Afterwards, she washed her face and gargled. She moved the mirror and took the toothbrush and toothpaste she kept there. Blair brushed her teeth, and then looked at her plump lips, her shiny hair and smooth cheeks in the mirror. Very carefully, she applied on her makeup.

And then methodically, she changed into the dress that Chuck picked. Remarkably, and showing he learned quickly, the dress fit her like a dream. The skirt had the same intricate pattern as the embroidery at the top. It was as like and unlike any princess gown she had ever seen. The design looked fantastical enough to appear in a Disney movie, but the color—a combination of black and gold—was a modern twist.

She stepped outside the bathroom with a smile, then twirled for her husband. Chuck seemed uncertain until he saw her grin.

"Did I do well?"

She nodded, then swished in the gown towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you."

"I'm the best," he said in self-congratulatory relief.

"Yes, you are," she agreed.

"Blair," she heard the other voice intrude on the moment. Blair turned and saw Jack sitting on the chair in front of Chuck's desk. "Is that your dress for the prom?" She nodded. "Lovely choice."

~o~o~o~o~

"You've reached Mr and Mrs Bass," she heard herself say in greeting. And then a short chuckle in the background, heard over the record. It was his voice that followed, in a light instruction, "Leave a message."

Their voices were cheery over the phone. The taped message played in the background. Blair would have run to the phone, but she was pouring ice cold water into one of the tall glasses.

She wanted the table ready for Chuck. They had not spent a lot of nights together since Jack arrived. It had been one meeting after another, and Chuck had seemed hellbent on making sure the US project went as smoothly as possible.

"Hey, Mrs Bass," she heard Chuck say into the machine. Blair put down the glass on the table and hurried towards the phone. "Sorry to call so late. Did you fall asleep?"

Blair grinned. It was getting to be a frequent joke to them now. On the days when they were supposed to meet for dinner, she almost always fell asleep in the limo in the ride from school to his office. The driver was too shy to wake her up, so Chuck almost always got into the car to find her slumped against the window or curled up in the backseat. When he insisted they drive straight home, she argued that she wanted to see him. When he had a break between meetings that were long enough for a ride, he picked her up from school to take her home. It always ended with him waking her up when she fell asleep on his shoulder.

The babies were tiring, and they weren't even born yet.

"Well, if you wake up in the middle of the night and come looking for me, I'm still here in the office." His voice grew excited, and it was obvious even over the phone. Blair reached the phone. He continued, "I might not be able to come home. I found an investor who's willing to put up hard cash for malls around Victoria, Jakarta and Shang Hai. And that's to start with. He's open to extending the chain to Mumbai, Seoul and Makati. He's only willing to talk in the afternoon his time, so that's around 3am ours. I'm sorry, sweetheart. But we're talking about six times Jack's profits on our project."

Blair's hand fisted on her side. She was happy. This was an achievement. No one would give that much to someone as young as Chuck if he was not making real headway with his reputation. He continued on about the project. Blair made her way to the bathroom while he spoke about getting her input on the design.

How amazing a concept it would be, he was saying, if all cities had the same exact design on the mall space.

She couldn't breathe. It was easier to breath while bent down. She knelt in front of the toilet, with her elbows on the seat. Her plump lips were parted, and her silky hair fell down the sides of her face, touching the rim of the toilet seat. Her smooth cheeks, red and flushed and raw with exertion.

"It's official. Bass is back, Blair. We did it!"

Her insides spilled uncontrollably as her stomach twisted. Her nose ran, and she almost tasted her vitamins coating her mouth afterwards.

It was half an hour later when she managed to pull herself up weakly from the bathroom floor. After quickly washing her mouth, Blair laid herself on the bed and reached a trembling hand for the phone. Her phone. The doctor was still on speed dial when he should not be. She had not needed her therapist for too long.

That she did not remove him should have been enough warning.

This was bound to happen sooner or later. She married a guy she was head over heels in love with. It had been clear that she loved him more than he loved her. She had waited for him and let him walk all over her, then agreed to marry him the day he confessed he needed her help.

And she knew all along—was prepared for it even—that he would grow into his potential.

And he did—more quickly than she expected.

This was bound to happen. She wished it was later. So much later.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Chuck strode towards the gates of Constance Billard while students left the school in small groups. With his phone in his ear, he said, "I know they're waiting. Tell them I'll see them later tonight. I haven't seen my wife for more than twenty four hours. That's not right."

He spotted Serena in the courtyard, then waved at her. Serena appeared confused, then walked over to him.

"I'm taking her out to celebrate. We just landed a prime investor in a flailing economy. The board won't complain, Tamara. In fact, I think they'll kiss my ass."

He could not wait to see the look on their faces. Finally, he was going to get the respect he deserved. There were traces of it during the first project, but it had only been a preview of this. This was what he had been waiting for.

By the time the plans have been finalized, and they needed to break ground on each of those countries Blair would have already given birth. Maybe they would be able to leave the kids with Eleanor or Lily a few days at a time. He was going to take Blair to every one of those cities. They were going to make memories. She had to see him, watch him. This was what she made him into. She should be proud.

Chuck hung up the phone. Serena peered behind him. He peered behind Serena.

"Where's Blair?" they asked at the same time.

Chuck straightened. "Isn't she with you?"

Serena shook her head. "She was absent. I thought you knew where she was. She wasn't answering her phone. I thought you were—"

"I haven't received a reply. I've been texting her the whole day. I thought she was in class," Chuck informed her. He licked his lips. "Call Eleanor. Or Dorota. I'll check at home."

Serena's eyes widened. "Okay," she decided. "I'll call the hospital too."

Chuck glared at her, opened his mouth, but then nodded. His jaw ticked. Jerry was on leave, but Ben informed him that he had followed the limo to school, stayed away as instructed. Blair pulled a bait and switch on his hundred twenty thousand dollar a year bodyguard.

"Hey Chuck!" Chuck almost growled at the intrusion into his life. The paparazzi mostly just stayed far away in the background. "Your wife left the hospital about two hours ago. My buddy got a shot."

"The hospital."

"She was walking out. Don't worry, man! Last I heard she was heading home."

He sighed in relief. Chuck managed to nod in thanks, then got into his limo and slammed the door.

When Chuck arrived home, he almost melted in relief at the familiar light in the bedroom. He glanced at the dining table and saw what looked like a setting for two. There was a half-burned candle at the center. The meal looked cold, and the water rings were now dry.

It was day-old dinner. He felt an overwhelming guilt at the sight.

Chuck made his way to the bedroom, then saw Blair placing some items in her handbag while Dorota lifted a large bag from the bed and to the floor. His heart stopped. Both Blair and Dorota looked up to see him. He cleared his throat, then managed a light, "Isn't it too early to be packing for Yale, Mrs Bass?"

She swallowed. He saw the movement of her throat. "I'm not going to Yale," she said softly. She lowered her head, and Chuck could swear she was crying.

He stepped forward. One. Two. "You don't need to do anything you don't want to," he replied gently, careful, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. He turned to the maid. "Dorota—"

The maid nodded briskly. "I leave you alone. You call. I clean kitchen."

She looked up at him, and now he did see very clearly the tears on her cheeks. "I do need to do things I don't want to," she told him. "Because I don't want to leave you, Chuck."

It was almost audible, the way his heart shattered. Maybe his investor in Asia heard it. All he could say was, "Why?"

She sniffled. "I came from the hospital."

"Is there anything wrong?" He walked closer still, and now he could almost reach her.

"Remember when we got our first hCG results? And the OB mentioned my history?"

He nodded. "Your eating disorder. You didn't want to talk about it. I didn't push."

He was close enough now, so he took her hand. But she pulled it out of his grasp and sat on the bed. Her voice was soft. "I was always so insecure about not being the best and not being loved that I made myself sick over it."

"It's back?" he asked, horrified.

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I love you!"

"I know."

"Then why is it back? What am I missing, Blair? What did I do?" If panic could be drawn by hand, he was sure it would the exact lines of his face that would appear. He sucked in his breath. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry. But I do, Blair. I'm sorry I didn't show enough, or do enough."

She shook her head. "I don't know why it's back. Maybe it's not even you. Maybe it's me. And my head. And I'm just sick like this and you can't ever do anything to fix me."

"It was me," Chuck insisted. "The last few days—"

"It can't just be you. I'm not going to play this easy and tell myself it's you," she told him. "But, Chuck, I need to check in to this center that my therapist suggested. Maybe they can help me."

He shook his head.

"It's only for about two months."

"In a couple of weeks, we're going to see if we're having boys or girls or one of each," he said softly. "And the babies are kicking. You can't—"

"I don't want to hurt them," she said. "And if I don't fix this, then I'll end up hurting them, Chuck. This isn't good for them."

"Don't leave," he said firmly.

"I don't want to," she told him honestly. "But I have to fix this, Chuck."

"It's me," he decided. "It's the last few weeks. I was too involved with the company. I was competing with Jack. I was doing everything wrong," he said in a rush. She shook her head, but he knew it. He could play back the saved messages in their answering machine and lack fingers to count out how many times he had cancelled, or called that he would be late. And he kept Tamara as Gina's temporary replacement while the other woman was on vacation—even after Blair already showed a hint of jealousy. "I'll fix it all."

And when she smiled, it was the saddest she had seen. "I wish it was. Because that would be so easy. No. It's me. It's something inside me. Even before all this, I just knew you would leave. Even before the company, before the late nights, before we got married, I knew. I was sure. I wasn't ever going to be enough."

There were hints of it, so many of it. And he had been arrogant enough to believe that 'I love you' would fix it.

"It's me," she concluded sadly. "And I have to fix it myself."

Again, he declined. "There's no 'just Blair' now. There's no, 'just Chuck.' We'll find a way together, but I am not going to miss two months of this pregnancy. And I am not going to stand by while you decide shutting yourself out from the rest of the world will convince you that people love you, that I won't ever survive without you." When he took her hand this time, she did not pull away. He kissed the back of her hand, her wrist, her fingers. "Because I won't."

She sighed. "What are we going to do?"

Upon hearing that, Chuck pressed his palm against his eyes. She wasn't leaving. They won that battle. He allowed himself the period of silence while he controlled his reaction. "I owe you a honeymoon," he said.

"You have the residential condos—"

"I'll leave it to Jack."

"Chuck, it's our project—"

"And everyone says he's good."

"What about the malls—the new one, with the new investor—"

"Farrar," Chuck answered.

"Just like that?" she breathed. "What about you? You landed him. You're going to give him control over it?"

Chuck nodded, then pulled her in his arms. When she embraced him back, he knew it was right. "Some things are more important, like keeping my family together." His father was a damn good businessman, and probably did not hand out multimillion dollar projects like this. But Bart Bass had been a screwed up family man, and Chuck learned his life lessons from Bart. And he knew what was important to him in the long run. "Besides, it's time I was really CEO. Let the company work for me. I'm already keeping it afloat by finding the deals. We'll let them finish."

"This is unbelievable," she said.

"I'm never going to leave you," he swore.

She nodded, her eyes brimming. "You mentioned that."

"Every day. I'll tell you every day until you believe it, and you're not sick over it. I'm never leaving you."

"Okay," she agreed. "Say it every day."

"I love you, and you're the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered in her ear. Blair closed her eyes, let the words wash over her. "And I'm trying to be good enough for you, and for the babies. I'll never outgrow you, Blair. I'll always be chasing after you. I'll always be growing for you. Just you."

tbc


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: **Took a long time, but after Monday I decided I needed to write this in.

**Part 31**

"I can't believe I can still go to prom!" she exclaimed, her body thrummed with excitement.

If it hadn't been Chuck standing beside her, her prom night would have been her fairy tale fantasy come to life. She had the dress, the luxury limo, her hair and makeup was perfect.

"Of course you can go to prom. I told you," he said in reminder, "you can do anything you want." When she was about to protest, to remind him of everything she had considered while alone in the darkness of their apartment, he continued softly, "I'll make it happen."

"Is that a promise?"

"Bee bee dee bobee dee boo," he quoted playfully, bringing back to mind a musical production they watched years ago, as little children herded into one of the Broadway theaters by their nannies, effectively getting them out of the way of the adults. Their nannies had brought them fruits and granola bars and juices, but Chuck had snuck a piece of chocolate in his jacket pocket.

Serena and Nate had looked on in envy. But Blair just stared intently at the actress playing Cinderella as she scurried on the stage while singing and waxing the floor. She wasn't going to beg for a piece of candy, especially after seeing how Chuck rebuffed Serena's attempt to steal a piece.

"Did you want a chocolate?" Nate had whispered to her.

And that was the only time she turned her attention away from the play. She asked, "Do you have one?"

"I'll get you one after the play," Nate had promised.

Blair shrugged. Her eyes shifted from Nate's anxious gaze to Chuck's face. Chuck Bass had a self-satisfied smirk on. He bit into his Snickers bar and munched, and Blair could see melted chocolate staining his lower lip.

"I don't want a chocolate," she had declared, much to Nate's relief. "It's fattening, you know," she informed Nate, sounding as if she was twenty years older than her twelve years.

And it was then that Nate leaned over to listen to what Serena was saying as the blonde pointed to the gory mess that was one of the stepsisters' ball gown.

She felt the crisp aluminum being thrust into her hand. Blair looked down and saw an unopened candy bar. She turned to Chuck, and the boy mumbled, "You don't need to go on a diet. You look fine."

She snuck a glance at Nate and Serena, then turned to Chuck.

"I only brought candy for you," he told her as an explanation.

Blair opened the bar, then bit into the oozy gooey chocolate and caramel, then chewed the nuts. "I love Snickers!"

"I know," Chuck said with a yawn. "And we need the sugar rush for this snoozefest."

"What are you talking about?" she asked in disbelief. Her breath caught in her throat when the fairy godmother appeared, and a cloud of smoke rose in the stage as actors and actresses playing Cinderella's mice danced on the stage as the actress changed costumes. "Wow," she whispered when Cinderella was revealed in her gorgeous ball gown. "She's perfect."

Well, her fairy tale fantasies had not before included a bulging, pregnant belly, but otherwise the scenery suited the dreams well.

Chuck had given her a dress remarkably similar, and she would not have been surprised if he had had it especially made for her.

Whenever his hand gingerly touched her abdomen, he made her feel almost like this was part of the dream all along. Nate looked up at them and waved, and he looked every inch the prince she had in mind when she was a child laying out this night on a scrapbook. Chuck's arm wrapped around her back and she looked up, saw him and his smirk that ill-suited all her plans. A few minutes later he spotted something he wanted and his hold fell away. Inadvertently her hand clasped his and tightened.

"I'll be back. I'll get you something to drink."

The words would not have mattered to anyone else, but they were everything to her. He was not going to leave. She watched from a distance as Chuck's eyebrows furrowed when he sniffed at the punch.

Of course someone would spike the punch. It was their high school prom. The biggest surprise would have been if no one did it. Of course, the fact that it was not Chuck Bass who did it was a revelation too. His quest for drinks had failed. He made his way back towards her.

"That was fast," she commented when he took her hand.

"Told you," Chuck sighed, pulling her into his arms. "We're going to go thirsty here. Someone went crazy and poured vodka into the punch."

And now, because of his promise to her, he was parched as well.

"We're leaving early anyway," she reminded him.

For their honeymoon, like he promised. In fact, they had planned to leave that morning until Chuck remembered prom. When Blair told him they could miss it, he rearranged their plans so that they could leave the next morning. It was not as if they were going far.

"You've been dreaming of this your whole life."

Blair held up her dress against her full belly, and was grateful about the flare of the skirt that at least partly hid that the princess was huge.

Penelope went up on stage. Blair frowned. "Are they actually going to choose a prom queen? That is so suburban." She made a face, then spied a glittering butterfly tiara sitting on a cushion beside the podium. She gasped. It looked like Cinderella's princess tiara when she married the prince. Her eyes widened. She looked up at Chuck.

And then she heard Penny proclaim her name. She squealed. Blair jumped up once. "It's me!" she exclaimed.

Chuck broke into a grin at her effusive glee. "Of course it's you, Mrs Bass. Who else is a queen in this place?"

Blair applauded, then tugged on Chuck's hand as she made her way to the stage. And then she saw Nate making his way to the stage as well. At the foot of the steps, Nate extended his hand to her. Blair turned to look at Chuck in confusion.

"Your prom king," Chuck informed her, in case she did not hear. "Just like you planned." Blair hesitated, and instead tightened her hand around Chuck's. Chuck kissed her cheek, then said into her ear, "It's like you always dreamed of."

She had gripped the back of the seat in front of her, when she was younger. Her mouth full of chocolate, her eyes shining, Blair watched as Cinderella spun on the stage in the arms of the prince. And she had turned to Chuck and said, "Doesn't he look like Nate?"

"I don't—" she began.

Chuck smiled, showing her it did not bother him anymore. He placed her hand in Nate's, then said, "Have your dance with the prince. It's only going to take a few minutes. I've got every day after this."

Blair turned and allowed Nate to help her up the stage. She met Chuck's eyes when Nate placed the tiara on her head. She blew him a kiss, and he nodded at her while she danced with Nate. After the dance, even before she could turn, he was already there waiting.

"Are you ready to go, Mrs Bass?" he asked. She went into his arms, then shook her head. "Not yet."

"The dress, the limo, the tiara, the dance with your prince," he said, as if checking off items in a list. "What else is missing?"

"From my perfect prom?"

He nodded.

"My dance with you," she pointed out.

He sighed, relieved that it was not a hitch in his plans. He chuckled. "I wasn't a part of the dream."

"No," she agreed. "But it's not going to be perfect without you now."

Chuck smiled, then pulled her into his arms again. "In that case, would you do me the honor?"

Blair leaned her head against his chest. Her stomach pressed up against his. She felt the movement of the babies inside her, making them heavier. Her lower back ached with the pressure. They would need to go and rest soon. Chuck kissed the top of her head, and she knew he felt the babies too. Blair closed her eyes and let him guide their bodies through the music. "This is perfect," she said.

When the music wound down, Chuck straightened. Blair remained leaning against him. He placed a hand on the small of her back. And then she requested, "Let's stay here like this for a little while longer."

He did not answer. Instead he placed both hands on her back and kept standing like she asked. The other pairs on the dance floor moved to the music while they remained stationary. He met Nate's eyes from across the floor. He saw Serena stop beside Nate. It had taken a long time, but he was finally able to read Serena's expressions enough to recognize that the other girl was asking if there was anything wrong. Chuck jerked his head in a silent message not to worry. And then he laid his cheek on Blair's head.

He did not miss the sequence of clicks that meant that their picture would end up online again, or even in tabloids.

Bass Industries had already released a statement that Chuck was going to step down as head of their residential projects division, and that he would not be spearheading the construction of the mall chain in Asia. He had refused to take the calls that he received from business editors throughout the day, because today was prom. Today was Blair's day.

Tomorrow they were going to leave for their honeymoon.

Their picture, just like this, could very well end up as a captioned explanation of his decision to lie low in the business. His business credibility could be shot so early in his career.

The babies were kicking on rolling inside her, and he could feel the movement while she pressed against him. Somehow, with that, he could not muster enough worry about his reputation in Wall Street.

"Are you tired?" he asked. He could just imagine how heavy the twins were, and she had been standing since they arrived.

"Yeah," she answered.

"Let's go home."

She shook her head against his chest and murmured in pleasure. "A few more minutes."

Chuck smiled, then pulled her closer. "I understand."

~o~o~o~o~

They had not exactly had the best time in the Hamptons. In fact, the Hamptons probably was the venue for their worst and most draining moments thus far. So when Chuck decided to take her to the Hamptons for their honeymoon, she almost cringed.

"I wanted to take you around the world," he explained to her when he pulled her back against him at the back of their limo.

She watched the familiar road fly by outside the window, then forced herself to say, "We have to be close to the company. I understand. This is better. If they call, we can go back in a few hours."

Chuck grunted, almost in displeasure at the comment. To prove his point, he took his phone from his pocket and leaned to the window. Chuck pressed the button to roll it down, then tossed his phone outside. When he looked back at her wide eyes, he cocked his head to the side.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, not a whisper of disappointment in her voice.

"I'm not taking any calls from anyone," he told her. "I'm not going to be pulled into any urgent meeting," he assured his wife. "Everything that matters is right here."

She was about to protest, but she shook her head instead and gave him a smile. And then she leaned her head back and shifted, so she could kiss the side of his neck.

Chuck's hand covered the now large and visible swell of her belly.

"Almost time to find out," he reminded her. They only had a few weeks before they had the ultrasound to try to determine what they were having. It was easier, so much better when the conversation was about the two of them. It was always safest when it was about their family. "What do you want?"

She held on firmly to his fingers. She sighed. "It's a secret."

"Tell me."

"I want to stop being sick so I have healthy babies."

But they were on their honeymoon, no matter how uninventive it was so close to home, to forget the illness, to make her feel secure. So he said instead, "I want a little girl who's at least half as pretty as her mother. That girl would have me wrapped around her little finger."

And when she giggled, he knew he was successful.

"What's so funny?" he asked, playing along.

"I just imagine you with a baby carrier strapped to one of your three thousand dollar suits, with an angelic little girl hanging from your chest."

He grinned. "You like the image?"

"I'd like it more if there was another one strapped to your back, with a little boy who's got a smirk on, staring down at everyone rushing after you."

"So the daughter would be an angel and the son would be some devil."

"What they don't know," she continued, "is that the angelic little girl has an evil flair and the devilish boy is actually every mother's dream."

"Am I Eleanor's dream?" he asked pointedly.

"Recently, yes. But when we started dating she was tearing her hair out."

Chuck burst out laughing. He had never been privy to Eleanor's reaction. In fact, he had managed to stay mostly away from Eleanor during his first try with Blair—the secret weeks they had been together. "Was she?"

Blair arched an eyebrow. "We're talking about the woman who agreed to an engagement with Nate when I was seventeen years old."

Chuck shook his head. "That was completely ridiculous."

"You married me at seventeen," she reminded him. Granted, it had not been legal, but they had thought it was at the time.

"I was in love with you," he said easily. Blair marveled at how he said it, like it was not a big deal, like it was something so ordinary, like it was a given, that it took her breath away. "And might I remind you that you accepted."

So she answered, "But you already knew I was completely in love with you too." She yawned, then leaned her head back on his shoulder, then shifted. Chuck rested back so she could settle against him. When she shifted uncomfortably, he reached for a pillow at his side and popped it on the side of the door. Blair shifted to lie her head on the pillow and away from him. She yawned again. "You're so far away," she said, reaching out her hand to invite him closer.

He shook his head. Chuck pulled up her feet from the floor to his lap, then took off her shoes and dropped them.

She smiled and closed her eyes. "You're really earning your keep, Bass." Chuck placed his thumbs on the arch of her foot and pressed firmly. She moaned. "I should start thinking of your bonus."

"I'm already getting a return on my investment," he reminded her. "At twice the interest rate."

Blair placed a hand on her abdomen. He made a circular movement that allowed the blood to circulate more. "The babies love that."

"How about mommy?"

"Mommy loves that more than sex."

His fingers stopped.

"Just kidding," she teased. Blair peered at him with one eye open. "So what are we going to do in the Hamptons?" He arched an eyebrow. "Besides the obvious—"

"We'll do everything we should have done the last time. We're going out on dates; lie around the beach; eat out."

She nodded, then closed her eyes. "No drama." And then she remembered, "I'm pregnant."

"So?"

"How am I going to lie around on the beach when I'm a whale?" She frowned. "Someone's going to stumble across me and push me into the water out of mercy."

Chuck shook his head, then moved closer. He pressed her foot against him. Blair opened her eyes when she felt his hard on. "You'll be gorgeous. Look what you're doing to me fully dressed." She still looked uncertain, so he assured her. "I can imagine you in your bathing suit, with your tummy exposed and tight over my babies. You'd be the hottest thing on the planet."

"You're biased," she managed.

"Hell yeah, I'm biased. We'll be lucky if we can even step out of our house for a break. I'll be all over you."

She smiled, then nodded. "I can't wait."

tbc


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: **Okay, so I think I've settled on a new arc in this fic. So there should be some speed to the updates for the next few.

**Part 32**

The bed was unfamiliar, but it was soft and warm and comfortable. When she opened her eyes, she felt the smile that curved her lips. She yawned. When she stretched, she felt arms around her tighten. She looked up and saw her reflection in the mirror, then recognized the man pressed up close behind her, with his lips buried in her hair.

"You need to go to the bathroom?" he whispered thickly.

She shook her head.

"Good. Because I don't want to let go." Once again, she felt him move even closer if it were possible. Blair's grin grew larger when she felt his hardness pushing up even nearer.

Her breath hitched in her throat when his hand slid under her nightgown. She felt him push up the hem, then watched with half-lidded eyes how he bared more of her leg until he exposed her hip.

Her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. And then he was pulling down her underwear to expose her panties. The reflection in the mirror was erotic. She was naked, bared in front of her eyes. She saw him, and with his smoky gaze he freed himself. He raised himself up with one elbow, then kissed the crook of her neck.

And then he was entering her from behind. Her legs parted eagerly. His one free arm hooked under her knee to open her, support her.

Her breath released in one long sigh. She pushed closer, then mumbled incoherently when she could not get enough. Blair arched her back, then grasped at his arms by reaching behind her.

"Closer," she begged. "More, Chuck."

His face was intent as he thrust inside her. She could see, even through the reflection, the sweat that beaded on his forehead. His teeth bit on the shell of her outer ear. With both his hands occupied, he used his hips for leverage.

"Not enough," she sobbed.

Chuck fell onto the bed, then grasped her hips to pull her with him. They collapsed in a heap. He slid out of her as he panted heavily. Blair sat up on the bed, then hiked her dress around her waist. She climbed on top of him, just like he taught her. She grasped his member and placed it against her opening. Then, to his surprise, she asked, "Are you ready?"

And he responded with a chuckle, "You're a fast learner, Mrs Bass."

She choked out, when her eyes fluttered closed, "Had the best teacher, Mr Bass." Her breath shuddered. "Although I didn't have much basis for comparison."

"You don't need it," he answered breathlessly. He jerked his hips and pushed up. Chuck reached for one bouncing, full breast. He placed his other hand on the taut skin of her belly. "Believe me. You already have the best."

"You don't lack for confidence."

"Humility is utterly overrated."

She threw back her head, then rolled her hips, eliciting a long drawn out growl. "No one is humbler than us," she said, prolonging the irony, coaxing a smirk from him.

Damn.

If their children were half as beautiful as he was, they deserved to have egos as inflated.

"We are the humblest, most gorgeous, luckiest people in the world," he decided.

Blair laughed softly. She came with his next thrust, and splayed her fingers over his neck when he exploded in her. She squeezed her eyes tightly when she felt the hot fluid from his body spill in her. The sensation brought her over the edge, and unbelievably enough she peaked again. Blair melted over him. She lay over him with her hair in disarray on her back and over his shoulders.

"I love you," she swore, her slack lips tracing breathy kisses on his moist chest.

"I love you a hundred times more," he promised her. And then, almost by rote, but she could hear the sincerity—"Never gonna leave you."

Hearing that, it was so easy to fall asleep.

She woke in the bed, familiar and warm now, all alone. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion until her muscles ached with tiredness in her thighs still throbbing. She moved her legs and felt the sticky residue, then raised herself up on her elbow. She blinked and looked at the empty space beside her on the bed, reached for the hollow portion of the pillow where he had slept.

"Chuck," she called. Even then, she could not keep the panic from rising. "Chuck," she said again, softer now. Almost like she could not expect him to be there.

A wave of relief washed over her when he appeared in the doorway, bearing a tray heaped with food. He was in his pajama pants—black and silk. His tray was laden with a plate of eggs, with bacon, with pudding, with jam bottles, with dumplings, with Indian crème cheese, with yogurt, with sweet shredded beef, with bibingka and slices of various fruits.

"Did you take food from every station in a hotel breakfast buffet?" she asked pointedly, happily.

There was a long stemmed yellow rose sitting prettily on the tray.

And he admitted it. "I had someone run from our Hampton hotel to bring us breakfast."

She grinned. "That's alright. I never thought you'd actually cook anything."

"I could learn," he said, challenging himself.

"Chuck Bass, in the kitchen?"

"For you—Chuck Bass, anywhere you want me."

She sighed, then reached out one hand and patted the bed with the other. He bore the breakfast with him when he went to sit with her. Chuck picked up the fork and speared a slice of pineapple, then held it against her lips. She jerked away, then shook her head. "I don't want sour food."

Chuck arched his eyebrow, then bit into the fruit himself. He held it back towards her. "Fiber's good for you." He munched. "And it's sweet."

She trusted him, so she held her breath and bit a piece of the fruit. She murmured in approval. Blair took the fork from his hand and cut off half a dumpling, then offered it to him.

After breakfast, he took her hand when they walked down the street to explore the boutiques. Chuck drew her towards one of her favorite shops. She had gone there with Serena only last year, but had not enjoyed the field trip as much as she could probably have. After all, thinking of all those derogatory puns about the Basshole Motherchucker had taken a lot of her attention and brain power.

Her Basshold Motherchucker, who made her come twice last night, who got her twice as pregnant, who made her a million times as happy every time he said those three words.

It took a long time.

"I saw something here yesterday," he told her. "You're going to love it."

Playfully, as if it was not yet an absolute given, she asked, "Are you going to buy it for me?"

And his question was, "Do you want the whole store? I'll get it for you." She grinned. He offered, "The whole street."

She shook her head, and walked into the boutique with him. "Show me."

He kissed her cheek, then decided instead, "Look around. I'll get it for you first."

Chuck started walking away from her. In that moment she felt the same irrational panic choke her. She wanted to breathe, but her chest was constricted. Her hand rose to rest on the swell of her pregnancy. She hated to do it, but her throat clenched and she almost felt the need to vomit.

She was not sure if it was a sign of the disorder, or if it meant she was finally getting better. She burst out with a, "Mr Bass!"

He stopped in his tracks, then turned. When he saw her, and she supposed he saw her pale and breathless now, his expression softened. He smiled then walked back towards her. He kissed her nose. Then he promised, "I'll be right back, Mrs Bass."

Her eyes sparkled. Chuck closed his hand around hers and lifted her knuckles to brush against his lips.

He returned within minutes, then plopped a wide-brimmed hat on the top of her head. "Classic," he declared. "Perfect for walking around in the summer."

She glanced at herself in the mirror, then declared, "Very Bergman."

"So did you get anything for me?" he prompted, seeing the box in front of her. Chuck took the box she offered, then lifted the lid. Inside was a folded scarf. One side was pink; the other blue. "Care to explain?"

"Can you even dare wear something so unfashionable?" she giggled.

Chuck looked down at his shorts and shirt, then wryly glanced back at his wife. "You obviously choose to forget that I fear no clothes. No matter how ridiculous."

Blair smiled, then wrapped the scarf around his neck. She tugged at it then showed him both pastel sides. "You can wear this pink when you're carrying the baby girl. And then the other side for the baby boy."

His voice was husky when he pulled her against him. "Then I adore it."

Mr and Mrs Bass headed home with only a few bags. It had not been a shopping expedition, and the trip caused no dent at all to their budget.

Graduation had come and gone, and it was the night that Chuck had decided that he would not take his wife back to Manhattan. There was another valedictorian when the entire school knew it should have been Blair. There was no way he would force her to sit through her ceremony while Nelly Yuki delivered her valedictory speech.

Instead, on graduation night, he let her sit in her nightgown while he sat on the floor in his boxers. And he let her soundly thrash him in Scrabble. He had just added up her points and written it on their notepad when he noticed her watching him.

He met her look with a smile. She returned it lopsided. "Are you bored?" she asked.

"How can I be bored? You're right in front of me."

Blair looked outside at the darkness. There were fireworks lighting up the sky. It was obviously a celebration for a launch. "It's at Vudu. The club's opening is tonight. I know because Serena and I planned to go. Chuck," she informed him generously, "you're free to go.

Chuck had only just arranged his remaining letters. At her offer, he looked up with a frown. He then placed his tiles one by one on the board.

"Chuck," she repeated, "come on. You're eighteen years old and you love these things."

He arched an eyebrow, then nodded. "I do. If you mean nights playing board games with my wife, then you're absolutely right."

She rolled her eyes. "You love attending club openings. I mean, last year—"

"Do you want me to take you?"

Blair shook her head. "Of course not. You know that's never been my scene. Besides, I'm pregnant."

"But you're asking me if I want to go?" he clarified.

"Do you?" she returned. "I don't want you to get bored out of your mind."

Chuck laid out the rest of his tiles. Blair looked down at his word, then opened her mouth to protest.

"I might not be good at this game, Mrs Bass, but does it really look like I'm not enjoying this?"

SEXY.

The X and the Y earned him some amazing points. With the X over the triple word score, he was making up for points Blair got for her long words.

MARRIAGE.

That had been a surprise. But it did not earn him too high of a score. It did get him points with Blair though.

The points just doubled when he hit the jackpot, and added a MENT to the word that Blair already set on the board.

COMMITMENT.

And so Blair did not oppose it, despite the fact that she could overthrow his last entry. The dictionary sat ignored beside the board. And she let him calculate the points for the word that she refused to acknowledge.

BLOWJOB.

"How many points did that get me?" he muttered while counting.

"You're certainly making it enjoyable for yourself," she answered.

"Maybe you're the one who's getting bored about your jobless husband," he pointed out, putting down his tiles.

"My bum CEO," she clarified. Blair picked up the tally sheet, then smirked. "I still win."

Chuck snatched the pad then added the numbers. He tossed the pad back down on the carpet. "By four points."

Blair stretched her arms to him so that he could pull her up. "Come on," she suggested. "I want to watch a movie." She made her way to the bag of DVDs that Chuck brought with them. Blair plucked one out and then set it in the DVD player. She then made her way to sit with Chuck on the large couch, then curled on the seat with her head on his lap.

"What are we watching?"

"50 First Dates," she informed him. Chuck groaned. She swatted her leg. "Stop pretending, Basshole. You were the one who packed the movies." When he chuckled, she continued, "You don't have to act like you're not a romantic. It's only me here."

Chuck leaned over to kiss her earlobe. Blair smiled as the introduction to the movie began. She turned her head and let him capture her lips. "Do you want me to be sappy?"

She shook her head. "No poetry or songs. Just you."

And he knew the perfect words. In her ear, once again, he promised, "No leaving, Blair."

"I love you too," was her equivalent reply.

Her eyes fluttered closed, even while the physical comedy on the plasma screen heightened. Neither of them watched. Instead, their fingers intertwined over the kicking they both felt.

"That's where the boy is," she decided. "Because the girl is sleeping on the other side."

"You sure?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "So tomorrow, during the ultrasound, we're going to see a boy right here. And then a little Blair over—" He dragged their entwined hands to the other side "—here?"

"I think I'll name her—"

"Misty," he chimed. Then he changed his mind, almost immediately. "No. No."

"I'm fine with Misty," she offered.

"Let's not name them after anyone else. I'd hate for them to feel like they need to live up to something."

She frowned. "Chuck, it's just a name. And it's a beautiful name."

"No," he said, his voice final. "We'll pass by the bookstore and get a book of names. We're not naming them after any of our parents." He pressed his lips over her stomach. "No matter how much I admire your father, my son isn't going to be Harold Bass. Let them carve their own destiny."

"They'll be born Basses, Chuck. Like it or not, there is something ready and waiting for them. And they're going to want to live up to an amazing model."

He sighed, then shook his head. Chuck leaned back against the backrest of the couch. "Nobody will drill all of Bart's achievements into their heads. Not if I can help it." When he glanced down at her face, she was looking at him. "I spent years trying to measure up and it nearly did me in."

"Chuck," she said, reaching up to cup his face. "They will want to measure up to someone. I'd want them to."

"You don't understand—"

She smiled, a big one, one that was peaceful. She pulled him down and kissed his lips. "I want them to measure up to you, to what you want them to be. You're going to be their amazing model, Chuck. You'll be the dad."

Her words overwhelmed him. He choked with emotion. Instead of pulling back, he kissed her. "Let's get some sleep," he suggested. "I want to see them bright and early tomorrow."

tbc


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: **Here's to hoping you are still able to follow the overarching theme of the story even this far into it.

**Part 33**

Her back was aching when she stood from the position she had fallen asleep in. She pressed one hand on the small of her back, then felt his hand press over it. She glanced back in surprise. She grinned. "You're awake."

"Sorry," he told her. "I should have woken you up to sleep in the bed."

Blair glanced at the abandoned Scrabble board and tiles. She saw the tv screen still on and showing the menu screen of the DVD she had fallen asleep to. "Oh I slept through it." She turned to Chuck. "Did you finish it?"

He shook his head. "We'll play it again tonight."

"You watched it!"

And he nodded, because he was never going to lie to her again. "But I'll watch it again with you." And then his smirk, because he always had to smirk. "Or I'll sit with you while you watch. And I might pay attention to other things than Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore."

She flushed, because the smirk said everything his words did not. "Are you going to feel me up through the entire movie?"

He winked.

Okay.

She made her way to the bedroom and changed into fresh new clothes. She was about to button the back of her dress when Chuck took the edges of her clothes in his hands, then parted the back. He placed a kiss on her nape. She sighed at the pleasurable sensation.

"We have a doctor's appointment," she reminded him.

His tongue peeked to draw a sharp circle on her skin.

"We want to see the babies, remember?" she reminded him.

"The babies," he repeated. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and walked to the closet. Chuck glanced back at her. He then drew out a salmon shirt to match her. She noticed the choice immediately and nodded in approval.

He was not a happy man when they arrived at the hospital and was informed that the doctor was not there.

"What do you mean she can't come?" Chuck drawled, pissed off. "I specifically scheduled her trip from Manhattan to here so she can make our ultrasound schedule. I've paid for everything. What else does she need?"

The girl seemed shaken, terrified of angering Chuck Bass. Blair considered the girl, then recognized her as someone who had gone on scholarship to Constance. She had been a few years older, and Blair thought she probably took this as a summer job.

Blair managed to be calmer. They had always had that silent agreement. If he was out of control, she had to stay cool. And vice versa.

"Do you know why?"

Breathlessly, the young woman answered. There was a flash of recognition on her face, so Blair assumed the girl recognized her too.

If she did, she probably knew Chuck. She was right to be scared. The Bass temper was a sight to behold. Blair shuddered at it even if it was not directed at her.

"One of her patients went into premature labor." The young woman sent a pleading look at Chuck. "She apologizes, Mr Bass."

Chuck walked out of the doctor's clinic while Blair trailed closely behind him. When he reached the door he stopped, waiting for her to stop beside him. Without looking, he offered her his arm.

"We should just go back home," Blair suggested. "That way, we can get to her even if she needs to make her rounds."

"I don't want any distractions, Blair," he told her. "Mine or yours." He sighed. When they reached the lobby, Chuck waved away the limo. "Let's walk to the bookstore. I still need to get that baby names book."

"Are you going to read it on the beach?"

"Maybe," he answered. "I can find names whenever I'm not staring at how hot you are in your red bikini."

Blair rolled her eyes. "In that case, I'll grab a few magazines to read too."

She had been comfortable enough, after the night of Scrabble, to let him go off on his own search. Blair made her way towards the fashion magazines and picked up an Elle. She then looked through her guilty pleasure, then picked up some entertainment magazines.

Blair was about to reach for one, but it was too high.

The issue was plucked from its perch, and was handed to her by a leggy, slender woman. "Here you go." A model, if she recognized correctly. A Brazilian underwear model. They were here for their swimsuit photoshoot.

"Thanks," she said.

Two more statuesque samples of female perfection joined. She was a whale, with a distended stomach. And they were wearing tops that revealed the skimpy bathing suits they wore underneath.

She was short to boot. Blair could not even compare with Serena. These Brazilian models were foreign.

"You're welcome," returned the first model, voice thick.

Sexy, leggy, foreign with an accent.

Completely Chuck Bass' cup of tea.

Blair took a baby magazine from a low shelf. Good for the store to consider that women buying baby magazines would wear flats. Or… women who got pregnant were too short to be models who took care of their careers too much to get knocked up.

Her eyes narrowed.

She was Mrs Bass. Why the hell did her brain keep going where she knew she did not want it to? Her mother could not have possibly made her this insecure. Nate could not have made her into this.

The girls, standing a few feet away now with a Sports Illustrated, oohed and aaaheed.

"Erica, you look gorgeous!" Blair heard.

Just as she suspected. They were looking at their own pictures.

"Have you ladies seen the dress on the cover of Vogue this month?"

Blair did not need to look. Cyrus had flown her mother the day before to Vienna to celebrate her line's debut on the Paris Vogue.

"Do you think we can get Chuck Bass to buy me that dress like he did with the coat on the cover of last years'?"

At that, Blair's eyes widened. She hurried to where she could see the girls' faces. Serena mentioned Chuck had been hanging out with three Brazilian models the year before, while she was creating the perfect cover story with Marcus. She could not believe they were all here again.

On her honeymoon!

"We'll know soon enough, Bea. Isn't it school break now? He'll be here in no time."

Bea turned an acidic look at Erica. "You would have to starve yourself to get Chuck Bass' attention this time. You've gotten too fat. Lose about eight pounds."

The girl was a stick. Blair frowned. She almost got sad for the girl. That was harsh.

And she was at least fifteen pounds heavier.

The models must have noticed her, because they glanced and smiled. Blair nodded, forced to return the smile. They were whispering about her now. She was the weird pregnant lady staring at the models.

"I was a lot bigger when I was pregnant."

Blair looked to her side, and saw an older woman watching her with a smile. The look on the woman's face was kind, like she understood everything going on in her head without even asking. "Excuse me. Do we know each other?" Blair asked, afraid of offending in case she was an old family friend.

The woman laughed, shook her head, then extended a hand to Blair. "You don't know me, but I know you. I was you," the woman confided. "It was a long time ago. I was the young pregnant girl who was always just a little insecure that my husband would find some gorgeous girl while I was huge."

Blair shook her head, could not help but smile at the other woman's candor. "Blair Bass," she introduced herself.

"I'm Lyn," the woman returned. "And don't you worry about them. You're beautiful." Lyn assessed her, and Blair felt uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. "Do you know yet what you're having?"

But the woman was so open and warm that even with years of training as an Upper East Side child, about being careful with strangers, she found herself answering, "We don't know yet." And then, against her better judgment, she revealed, "But we know it's twins."

Lyn clapped a hand over her mouth. "Twins! That is such a blessing."

"We know!" Blair exclaimed. And then she was curious. She was going to end up like this. Being a mother was going to make her grounded enough to talk to strangers. Of course, she probably felt safe enough given the woman's regal bearing. "What did you have?"

"I had a boy," Lyn shared.

Blair nodded in appreciation. "We're hoping for a boy too. One of them at least." She looked around. "Is your son with you?"

Lyn shook her head. "Believe it not, he's a grown man with his own family now." And then she sighed. "I couldn't believe it for a long time."

"So the years do fly?"

Lyn nodded. "Once you have them, the years will fly by. You look big enough for you to know the sex of the babies."

Blair picked up the magazines she wanted, this time not shy about taking the parenting titles. "Well," she related, "my doctor couldn't come to the Hamptons, and my husband is a snob." Blair shared, "He doesn't want just any doctor."

"Oh Mr Bass is a snob, is he?" Blair nodded. "With a name like Bass, I would expect him to be." The woman took a pen from her bag and wrote a name and a number on the back of one of the magazines. "These are the details of Lourdes Johnson. She is the preeminent OB in the East Coast. Even a Bass will appreciate that."

Even Blair recognized the name. Some of Cyrus' clients demand that doctor. "Well we can't just walk in!"

"I'll make a call. You can take my slot for this afternoon and I'll let Lourdes know to expect you."

"Oh my God! You will?" Lyn nodded. "Thank you so much. Chuck will be thrilled! He wants to know so badly." Blair grasped her new friend's hand. "Let's find him. He will adore you!"

Lyn gently extricated her wrist from Blair's grasp. "Sweetie, I can't right now. I have a meeting I'm already late to."

"Oh." Blair looked crestfallen. "But you've been so helpful. We don't exactly know a lot of people here in the Hamptons."

"You don't have anyone to run to for advice?"

"My mother's out of the country." Nate's mother lived there, of course. And she had always been welcomed by Anne as a daughter. "Well, I hesitate to subject my ex-boyfriend's mother to pregnancy questions when I'm having her son's best friend's twins."

That seemed enough. Lyn sighed, then wrote her phone number on the back of another one of Blair's magazines. "Call me if you need me," she offered generously. And then, almost as if she did not want to ask that question, Lyn edged out, "Chuck Bass—he's—he's not too busy for you?"

The question made her smile. "You would think that he would."

"He's a young man with a heavy load on his shoulders."

Blair shook her head. "He's perfect."

Lyn nodded. "That's good to hear, Blair." And then Lyn let out a laugh. "I really need to go. It was nice meeting you, Blair."

"Likewise."

When Lyn walked to the exit, Blair turned and searched the store for Chuck. She could not find him, so she went to the counter to pay for her purchases. She looked up and found him with a paper bag from the bookstore, then a smaller paper bag from the boutique next door.

She walked towards him and he immediately reached for the bag full of magazines. "For me?"

He grinned, then handed her the small paper bag. "Certainly not for me," he said.

Blair pulled from the bag a bright red pair of string bikinis that had mint blue piping. She held it up with confusion. "Chuck, I'm not wearing this. This is ridiculous."

"You would look so good in it."

"Like Erica? Or Bea? Or whoever that third one is?" Sports Illustrated bodies, every one of them.

"Who the hell are Erica and Bea?"

She was Blair Waldorf-Bass. How dare he expect this from her? "I'm not one of those girls that can look good in these, Chuck. Especially not when I'm huge."

"First of all, you look gorgeous in anything. Second, who are you talking about?"

"Chuck! Oh Chuck!"

Chuck turned and his eyes widened in horror when he recognized his Brazilian 'triplets.' Erica. Bea. And… Clara. He thought he remembered the name. He was not sure, so instead he greeted them with, "Ladies."

"You're back in the Hamptons," Bea stated the obvious.

"And so are you," he answered. He reached for Blair's hand, but she pulled it away.

They glanced at Blair in surprise. "You're the girl jumping for your magazine," they recognized.

Blair smiled, sickly sweet. "And you're the giant who got it for me without a stool."

The insult, delivered in such a sugar-coated manner, went over the woman's head. "Your sister?"

Why the hell would anyone think of 'sister' in that scenario?

"My wife."

"Very pretty."

"Most beautiful woman in the world," he told them. And then, because he could not take her hand, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. "I love her to death." At that, she looked up at him and saw his eyes, and they were turned to her, just her. He did not even see the slender goddesses in front of them. "So much," he said, and now it was almost like he was addressing her, because the models in front of them had evaporated from their attention, "it consumes me."

When he said it, she sucked in her breath, and only then realized she had been holding it. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, in front of everyone who was still there. And he kissed her back hungrily, like the few minutes she was away from him, when she had been jealous without foundation, had been long and arduous.

When he raised his head, his eyes were closed. Blair found it cute, so she kissed his nose. "We're going to have the ultrasound after lunch."

He opened his eyes, mystified still by the kiss. Even then, he had a complaint. "I don't want any small-time doctor—"

"With Lourdes Johnson. At one. We have an appointment, Chuck."

He broke into a big smile. "How did you manage that?"

She gave him a proud grin. "I'm Blair Bass."

"Well that explains it."

After lunch, they arrived at the posh clinic about fifteen minutes too early from their schedule. But the Bass name was high profile enough to make even the big name doctor rearrange her schedule. They were ushered into the chic ultrasound room within two minutes that they were announced. The technician prepared the machine while Chuck helped Blair climb onto the bed.

The doctor was old. The curly silver hair was proof of it. They had known she was famous, had been in demand for years. But Chuck especially did not realize how old the woman was. She was still practicing, and she was about sixty years old.

"I can see that face, Chuck Bass. I am still at the top of my game, mind you," the doctor declared, reading his mind. "I was the first person on earth to smack your bottom, and I'll do it again."

Chuck's jaw dropped. Blair's eyes widened. His hand around hers tightened.

"So now it's your kid. I am old," she mumbled. And then, the woman turned to Blair. "How are you, Blair?"

Blair blinked. "You delivered Chuck?"

"Yes, I did. And look how well he turned out."

Blair opened her mouth to ask a follow-up, but Chuck's grip started to hurt. "I don't want to hear any more about it. The doctor stepped outside for her gloves. Chuck said, "We're leaving."

"Chuck, wait, no," she protested. "We came here to find out the sex of the babies."

Chuck's jaw tightened. He glared at the door. Then to Blair, he said, "If you think I am leaving my family in the hands of someone incompetent—"

"Chuck, what on earth are you talking about?"

Chuck picked up her bag, but she would not budge. He said quietly to her, "She is not going to be your doctor, Blair."

She pursed her lips. "I want to see my babies. You want to see them too. It's just an ultrasound, Chuck."

In the end, she won. Chuck hovered close to her, often getting in the way as the doctor showed them the sonogram image of the babies. "There's one." The doctor turned to Chuck. "We're having another one of you."

Chuck kept his eyes on the monitor as he gripped Blair's hand. It was Blair who clarified, "It's a boy?"

"You have a boy."

"And the other one?" Blair prompted.

The doctor frowned. Chuck glared at her because of the silence. "What's wrong?" he bit out.

"Nothing. The little one is just very shy. We'll check another angle." She moved her hand.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" Chuck pressed. "Check again."

"I know what I'm doing, Chuck Bass." The doctor then shook her head after a few minutes. "I'm sorry. The baby isn't showing us what it needs to. But for now, we're sure one of them is a boy."

"She's so shy," Blair said lightly. Chuck licked his lips. She asked him to help her clean up, so he wiped the gel from her belly. "Shy like me," she joked.

Chuck said, "Let's get out of here."

"Hey," she called gently. He turned to her. Blair asked, "Are you happy? We're having a boy, Chuck."

"I'm happy you're fine."

She shook her head. "It was just a normal procedure. You didn't have to worry."

"That's what she told my father when my mom went into labor, Blair. And every day of my life I regret that I killed her. That woman lost my mother when I was born. We're never going back to see her again," he stated.

At that, she wrapped her arms around him. And then she kissed his cheek. "Alright."

tbc


	34. Chapter 34

AN: I love that some of you seem to be guessing on the arc. But of course you know I can't confirm or deny.

**Part 34**

He had been enjoying the afternoon lying in bed with his wife and getting bullied into singing to her stomach. He didn't sing, he insisted to her. He even offered to hire a band to hang out so they could play to her. But she had pouted and insisted that her children needed to hear their father singing.

And so, because the reason they were in the Hamptons after all was to reassure her, he did.

Was it so bad that he only knew songs that were not fit for children? He started singing one of his old favorites—All These Things that I Have Done. When he glanced up at Blair she was wincing, but she smoothed her expression immediately for him and nodded in encouragement.

When he was done, she placed her hands on his shoulders and asked, "You don't know any nursery rhymes? Or Barney songs?"

It was not appreciative, and so he returned with, "Do you?"

She shook her head, then brightened and offered, "I know some old school classics."

"How old school?"

She flushed. "Yeah, they're not the best ones to sing to babies." She groaned. "We're going to be terrible when they come out. All you know are old rock songs with some nasty meanings and I know pop dance hits."

"I'll hire Barney and Baby Bop to jump and sing inside their nursery five days a week. How about that?"

She rolled her eyes. "We can't hire for everything we need," she pointed out. Blair clasped her hands when an idea occurred to her. "Maybe there are classes we can attend to learn baby songs."

"Classes? Of course there are classes for nursery rhymes and songs like that," Chuck pointed out. "They're called preschool and daycare. Unfortunately, you were too snooty to perform with the other children, and I was too busy pulling pranks on Nate to memorize anything."

Blair pursed her lips at the sarcasm. "They have Lamaze classes. I'm sure someone's taught of making a class for this."

He sighed, reluctant to get off the bed for this. But the pregnant lady would just get what she wanted at the end. Chuck pulled himself up. "If you insist," he stated.

"I do," she breathed.

Chuck walked over to the laptop that had remained unused for most of their vacation, then logged on. After a few minutes of searching in the area, he reported the unsurprising fact, "There are no classes for it."

She made a face, then held out a hand. Chuck glanced back at her from his perch in front of the laptop. He smirked. "Can't stay away for long, can you?" he asked teasingly. He sat back, making a show of being relaxed.

"Absolutely not," she answered easily. She stood up. Chuck's eyes went straight to her abdomen. She placed one hand over the swell, then walked over to him. He patted his lap with a wink. Blair's eyebrow arched. "I am not sitting on your lap. That is so trite. Other couples do that. Not us."

Chuck caught her hand and tugged at it anyway. "We said we won't hold hands or watch movies either."

Blair opened her mouth for her protest, but Chuck pressed his mouth on hers to stifle the complaint. Blair smiled. "Aren't you afraid of being ordinary?"

"This is ordinary?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

"So ordinary," she informed him. "Every other couple in the world does this." Blair placed her hands on the front of his shirt, then smoothed it down.

"Well, then I must have missed so much trying to avoid it." And then he shook his head. "They don't do it the way we do. They couldn't have been."

She cupped his face, her earnest eyes searching his. "Why not?"

"Because no one else in the world can be as happy as I am. I've seen their faces. I'd know if anyone else has ever been this happy. It would show."

She smiled. "This from the guy who thinks he's the most miserable person in the world."

"That was before I jumped."

It was the memory of Chuck on the ledge, drunk and lost, miserable and at the verge of losing it, that made her clutch at his shoulders in remembered fear. As calmly as she could manage, she reminded him, "But you didn't jump."

"When I took your hand and stepped back onto the roof, I jumped." She bit her lip, but did not force the issue. He continued for her, unless she misinterpreted it. "I'd hesitated for so long. When I saw you reaching for me, there were two choices. I could end it then, give everything to Jack… hurt you." She took a deep breath, then rested her cheek on his shoulder. He said softly, "Or I could take your hand, hold my breath, and jump straight into something I was terrified of. I could let you love me."

She grumbled softly, half-heartedly. "Don't compare loving me to a suicidal jump!"

"It was completely the opposite," he assured her. "That's when I stopped being miserable." He dared to ask the question, just because it was almost that day now. "Blair, how are you going to survive Yale so far away from me and the kids?" But really, he had asked himself the same question without getting a response.

The question took her aback, with its abrupt insertion into a quiet discussion where he had lulled her into such a gooey mess with his admission of when it was he gave up on trying not to love her.

It was a trick, she thought, because she was teary and emotional and completely unprepared.

How was she going to survive Yale without him and –

Wait.

"I'm supposed to leave the kids with you?"

Chuck shrugged. "You're going to have a hard enough time adjusting to college. Yale's been the dream for so long I know you want to put everything into it."

"And you're probably going to have to put in extended hours in the office when you start working again. What makes you think you'd have more time for the kids?" She set her jaw. "I'm not leaving my twins with you, Chuck!"

His back shot straight up. "What, were you planning on taking them with you and feeding them in an auditorium while taking class notes?"

Blair stood up, then jabbed a finger in his chest. "And you, you were planning on getting your project team to change their diapers and sing them to sleep?"

"If I have to," he retorted. "They'd follow me too. With no complaints. You think your classmates would appreciate two screaming kids ruining lectures? And you can't glare at them until they fold either."

"And why not?" she yelled back.

"Because it's not Constance, Blair." In Constance, he was just in the next building. He could easily ruin anyone who dared to ill of her. Even when he stopped going to St Jude's, everyone feared her wrath as much as they feared his retaliation. Everyone knew who he was. Everyone trembled at the thought that Blair would not be happy with them—and by extension, Chuck would destroy them. "You're not queen there!" he argued. "You'd come in just like every one of them, Blair."

Her eyes widened. Chuck realized too late the offense she would take at his words. Blair gasped at the sheer insolence. Chuck shot up to his feet to try to take her arm. She shook him away. "How dare you!"

Because, of course, Blair Waldorf-Bass would never be like every one.

His voice lowered, "That did not come out the way I intended it too."

"No," she answered coldly. "It came out exactly the way you meant it."

The doorbell rang. Chuck cursed. Serena and Nate. They had told him they would come to surprise Blair as soon as they returned from their respective trips around Europe. Chuck did not want the misunderstanding pushed back, and it likely would with Serena and Nate fussing.

He turned his eyes at Blair, almost afraid of her reaction. He did not want to comfort a crying pregnant wife. Pretty much because he was the reason she was crying. And pregnant. They were in the Hamptons because he needed to make sure she felt loved and secure.

And he just shot her confidence to hell.

She did not melt into a sobbing mess. Chuck took one step closer to the bathroom, to block her way in case she wanted to spring towards the sink.

Instead, Blair folded her arms over her chest. She glared at him, then thrust her chin up. Haughtily, and every inch the queen that she was, she commanded him, "Answer the door, Chuck."

Hell, she made even him, the richest kid in New York, feel like garbage.

And damn did it make him happy.

They had been in the Hamptons for a little over a month, and she was leaps and bounds more secure than the girl she had been at home in Manhattan, when late office nights and fits of jealousy reduced her to hurt herself.

He had never felt better about being ordered around, never loved her cold glare as much.

Chuck threw the door open to be met by Serena's squeal which almost pierced his eardrum. "I heard the news. A little Chuck!"

And in spite of the current war that Blair had called between them, Chuck still broke into a proud grin. "A little Chuck," he agreed. He accepted the quick hug that his stepsister gave him, then grinned when Nate gave him a big smile and a shake of his head.

Chuck gestured for the two to step into the living room. "What are those?"

Nate raised the bags in his hands. "Food so that Blair doesn't have to worry about a thing."

"Nate, you are so thoughtful," Chuck heard Blair chime in. "You are always so thoughtful. You're the absolute best," Blair said, lathering Nate with praise.

Nate's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He turned to Chuck, who had a small, patient smile. "Yes, Nate. You always think before you do or say anything, unlike me."

Blair turned to face Chuck. "Stop," she said simply.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck drawled.

Serena's gaze turned from Chuck to Blair. Blair gave Serena a forced smile, baring her teeth. "How was Europe, S?"

"It was," Serena answered easily, "same old Europe, same old buildings. It would have been so much better if you were there, B."

Blair sighed. "I wish I could have gone. But instead I'm stuck here with him," she said acidly.

Nate cleared his throat. "Are you two okay?" he managed.

"Don't ask, Archibald," Chuck told him softly. Nate sat uneasily on the couch. "So how's the lovely new apartment?"

"The interior designer tells me it's shaping up to be one of her best works yet," Nate answered. He turned to Blair, then said, "She incorporated a lot of the French themes you like. She chose a nice painting of the Riviera for the living room." And then, because some of Vanessa's humor had rubbed off on him after their backpacking trip, said, "You'd really love it. Maybe you should move in with me and leave this douchebag."

Chuck cut in, "Give it up, Nathaniel."

Nate responded with, "You know I'm kidding."

Blair's eyes sparkled. Chuck growled. "Not the best time."

"You already won," Nate pointed out.

Blair rolled her eyes. She went to the kitchen and poured herself some cold water. "There wasn't any competition," she told them.

Chuck turned to his wife, and said, "That's what you think."

"I thought you told Nate you were going to marry her?" Serena asked.

Chuck instinctively touched his jaw, then flexed it. Blair turned to Nate and demanded, "What did you?"

Nate raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think I did something? That's Chuck Bass!"

Chuck's smirk grew at the defensive stance that Blair took, despite her recent anger. "What did you do, Nate?"

Chuck offered, "He socked me."

Blair placed her hands on her hips. She was still not talking to Chuck, but she gasped at Nate. "You punched my husband?"

Nate raised his hands in mock surrender. "He wasn't your husband then. If you remember, he just completely humiliated you and you hated him. Remember?"

Chuck looked nervous. That reminder, on top of their argument, was bound to send him to the doghouse. Blair thrust up her chin. "No, I don't remember."

Chuck sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mrs Bass."

"I'm the only one who can hit you. No one else is allowed." Her lips slowly curved into a smile.

Serena made a face. "More disgusting than the sex talk, B." She leaned over to the bags and stood up. "I'm going to prepare dinner."

Chuck walked over to Blair and asked quietly, "Am I forgiven?"

"Not yet," she answered. "But no one punches my husband and gets away with it."

He took her hand in his and raised it to kiss the backs of her fingers. Everything was going to be okay.

The morning after Nate and Serena's visit, Blair went out for breakfast with Lyn, the date that had become a recurring one for the past month in Hampton. On the second appointment, Chuck made sure to send the woman's name to his PI to do a background check. When the woman turned out to be clean, Chuck requested for one of Blair's bodyguards to tail Lyn after breakfast.

The woman was a rich divorcee, one of many that summered in the Hamptons. From all evidence, it seemed that she had just taken a liking to Blair.

And so Chuck allowed his wife to have those two hours every week for the female companionship that she wanted. In fact, the weekly dates seemed to have a positive effect, because Blair returned more confident about having the twins when any other time she would have freaked out.

"Well," Blair told him after one breakfast date with Lyn, "a lot of other babies won't show their sex on the fifth month. Lyn said not to worry. She didn't know her son was a son until she was six and a half months along."

If that was the case, they needed to have another ultrasound soon to see if the other baby was a girl or if they would have two boys.

The breakfast dates have turned out to be such a success that Chuck took those hours to relax, because he was sure of that Blair would come home refreshed and unworried.

On the fifth breakfast date, Chuck did not expect her to come home with the newspaper. He had been fending off the half dozen reporters who had tried, who appeared out of the blue in the Hamptons for an interview. But he had not been able to ignore the photographers who started working their way closer to them during the honeymoon.

"Been a month, Mr Bass. Honeymoon's over," one of them even informed him the week before. "Time to go back to work."

But he was not going to break the paradise that the Hamptons turned out to be. His wife was big and round and so free from stress. And he was getting to hold her and feel the babies moving inside her every night. Every morning he was singing to them.

He was as far from his father as he could be.

"Chuck," she told him, holding the newspaper, "let's go home."

"No," he answered simply.

She placed the newspaper, folded and open to the business section, with Jack's mug grinning back at him. "The definitive face of Bass Industries. Read it."

And in it, the article listed the developments that came from his project, the one he worked on with Blair, the project that he had asked Harold to work on with him. It listed the new mall chain development. All under Jack's resume.

It stung.

But he said, "I don't care."

"I do," she said firmly. "This is your success, Chuck. This is your work. This is you."

Chuck locked his jaw. "I'd rather have you," he answered.

"You can have both."

"We tried last time. It didn't work, Blair. I'd rather lose this," he pointed to the article on Jack, then placed his hands on her belly, "than this."

"We're not going to be the reason that you can't be everything I know you can be." Chuck looked down at the article. Blair cupped his face, then turned him so she could look him in the eye. "This is in your blood. Say what you will about Bart, but he was a brilliant businessman. And whatever you think you want now, you will always want to get that approval, that proof that you're as good at this as he was."

"I want my family whole, Blair. My dad couldn't do it. And I almost lost you when I tried."

She nodded. "But I'm better now. You made me better," she insisted.

"Yale—"

"I'll be in school two months before I have to give birth. Where's the sense in that?" She sighed. Then, decided, "New Haven can wait."

He wanted to ask for that, couldn't bear to say it. He soared. But still, he hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"We'll make it work." She kissed his forehead. "And if someday I hate you for it, remind me that it was my decision to stay with you."

He took an unsteady breath. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. "I'll make it worth it," he swore to her. "Every moment you traded for your dream—I'll make it even better."

She blinked, tearing up at the mention of that fantasy she had worked for so hard. It was her decision, and it was not like it would be awful to be a mother instead of going to the university she wanted. She did not know why tears had to come. "Promise," she requested.

"Cross my heart."

tbc


	35. Chapter 35

**Part 35**

Chuck wanted to stride faster. The minute he saw through the clear glass walls of the conference room his uncle standing in front of his slide presentation, at the head of the board, he wanted to pick up his pace and show them all that he had arrived. It took cunning and planning, but he had managed to slip back into Manhattan and the Bass building undetected.

Blair talked to him about the Art of War.

The Art of War taught you that the element of surprise was still one of the strongest strategies in the business playbook.

His wife was right beside him, waddling in her measured steps.

"I'm slowing you down," she voiced out. And he frowned even if it was true. "Go ahead. I'm right behind you." She was almost breathless, like the pace was too much. He should have really dropped her off their apartment, but that would have heightened the possibility of a lucky pap snapping a picture. Besides, she wanted to take as much a part of his work as she could.

Chuck slowed down and offered her his arm, which she gratefully clasped. "You want to lie down in my office?"

"I'll come with you," she said decidedly.

When they stepped into the conference room, the board looked up in shock and welcomed him with courtesy. It paid to have left the moment he presented them with investors, at the height of the project that he had begun. At least he could reap the benefits of having accomplished something before he stepped away from his hands-on role.

Confidence, she had told him. He had it in bucketloads, and he needed to let it cover up the fear.

Jack opened up his arms and walked towards Chuck, gave his nephew a large embrace. "Chuck, I didn't expect you."

"Nobody did," Chuck answered smoothly. "I thought I'd check up on the company."

And Farrar, who had been handed the residential condo project, asked, "So does this mean you're taking back your active role in Bass?"

The man had grown more stress lines, if that were possible. Only after a few weeks of handling the project too. The new respect in his eyes told Chuck that he would likely have no problems with Farrar anymore.

He answered, "I'm back from my vacation." When Farrar breathed in relief, Chuck clarified, "But I will not be heading a project or a division. I'm CEO of Bass. I'm heading this company, and I am bringing in the money. Each one of you," he turned to the board members, "should have an active project and overseeing divisions upon my approval."

Chuck led Blair over to the vacant seat at the head of the table. Based on the folders in front of the seat, it had been Jack's seat. He nodded at Jack. "Continue," he told his uncle. "I'd like to see how much progress you've had since I left."

Jack's lips tightened. "This discussion is highly confidential."

Chuck's head cocked to the side. "Are you asking me to make my wife leave, Jack?" Chuck grinned. "She's got more of a chance taking control of this company than you do." Then he waved his hand. "We don't keep secrets from each other."

Jack's gaze turned to Blair. "Is that right?"

"Of course," Blair answered, meeting Jack's stare. "For example," she stated, turning to the board, "I was the first person to find out that the investors named in that recent article about Jack are onboard because Chuck talked them into signing the contracts."

"Good point," Jack drew out.

After Jack's presentation, Chuck offered her his hand to help her up. Farrar approached them, then said to Chuck, "I'd like to set up a formal discussion with you about your role now that you're back."

"I can schedule in a half an hour for you," Chuck answered, setting the limitation on his time. "Let me see to it that Gina plugs that into my calendar."

"Gina's back?" Blair asked in surprise.

"Of course."

Farrar turned to Blair, then said casually, "We finally learn why Bart left all this to your husband. You must be proud."

Chuck shook his head. "The flattery tells me that you want to talk now," he observed.

The older man chuckled. "As sharp as Bart."

Blair patted Chuck's arm and said, "I'll meet you in your office. I have to go to the restroom." She made her way to Chuck's office to use the private bathroom.

The heavier and bigger she became, the more frequently she needed to pee. After relieving herself, she walked to the wide space in front of the sink. Blair looked at her reflection in the mirror. Almost seven months, and she was bigger than any pregnant woman she had ever seen. She shuddered at the sight, then her attention fell to the photos frame sitting on the wide marble and mother of pearl counter.

To the left, just as expected, there sat their wedding picture. And out of all the pictures that had been available to them where the Eleanor Original ballgown cut wedding dress hid the pregnancy, he had chosen the one where his hands cupped her stomach so that the swell showed. Of course he would choose the picture that included their entire family—so he could see the babies, or the evidence of the babies.

He was not even looking at the camera in this one. Instead, while she was smiling at the photographer thinking this would be the classical pose of newlyweds where they were both looking in the same direction. But no, she thought. Chuck always had to be unique. And his favorite wedding picture was one where she was obviously knocked up, and he was staring at her.

And he loved her.

To the right, her breath caught in her throat when she recognized the people in the older photograph. Staid and formal, but still affectionate. It was Bart Bass with his arms around a brunette classic beauty. Chuck's mother. Blair picked up the frame.

There was a rapid knock on the door. She looked up in time to see Chuck step into the bathroom.

"They were a beautiful couple," she commented.

Chuck saw the frame she held, then nodded. He took it from her hand and placed it back on the counter. "Come on. I'm exhausted. I need to lie down."

Blair arched an eyebrow. "I'm not a child, Chuck. You don't have to play pretend with me. I'm not going to complain if you want to tell me that I need to go to bed." She walked towards the door, then gripped the handle and stopped.

Chuck placed his hands on her hips. "Dizzy?"

"As expected," she said easily. Blair closed her eyes and waited until the world was no longer spinning. She opened her eyes and registered her surroundings, then felt Chuck's arm tighten around her waist.

He kissed her shoulder. "Okay now?" She nodded, then held onto his arm. "I'm excited," he said into her ear, his voice low. "And I bet it's a girl."

They would finally know in the morning, and she could not wait either. "No fair. I already bet it's a girl."

"Well, no son of mine would be too shy to show off his goods."

"Spoken like a supportive dad," she teased.

~o~o~o~o~

"Oh my God," he whispered when the wavy lines moved on the screen. He was crushing her hand with how tightly he held on to her, but Blair did not mind. "Look at my little girl, Blair."

Blair smiled tearfully. "Your little girl, huh? So it's your son and your little girl."

The doctor pressed the print button, much to Chuck's delight. That was going to be immortalized and hung on his office wall. Blair sat up on the bed and fixed her hair to fall on her back.

"How are you doing, Blair? Excited for the big day?"

Blair turned to her husband, then asked, "Chuck, would you mind stepping outside for a minute?"

"No," he said easily, automatically, almost like he expected the question and was armed against it.

Blair rolled her eyes. To the doctor, she said, "I'm fine. But," her voice fell, and she glanced at Chuck with discomfort.

Chuck tensed in his seat, and moved forward. "What is it?"

"I'm getting all these ugly stretch marks and varicose veins," she admitted.

Chuck released his breath. "That's it?"

Blair pursed her lips. "They're ugly. I don't want you to see them."

The doctor smiled kindly, then suggested a combination of essential oils to massage onto her skin. "But it's normal, Blair. Most of that will go away after the twins come."

"You're always beautiful, you know," Chuck reminded her softly. "You don't need to be embarrassed about that."

Blair smiled gratefully at him, then nodded. "We should go."

Chuck held up his phone and frowned. The doctor wrote on her prescription pad. The doctor handed the sheet to Chuck. "Mr Bass, there's no signal in here. You can get better signal outside. In the meantime, maybe you should pick this up from the pharmacy."

Chuck looked down at the vitamins on the prescription, then turned to Blair. "I'll make the trip down to get this, then I'll come back for you."

"I'll come with you," she offered.

"It will be faster this way," he told her, then placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Make it fast," Blair requested.

"Yes, Mrs Bass," he said agreeably, with a fat smile.

The doctor waited until the door closed behind Chuck. Blair settled in her seat, then turned to her OB. The doctor said, "So, what did you want to tell me?"

Blair asked, "What would you have done if he didn't need to call for the limo?"

"That's why I prepared the prescription." Then the doctor said, "And you would have found a way to tell me. I don't think you would have gone home if it was bad."

Blair nodded. "I don't want Chuck to know. Not yet. He's got his hands full. And I've got all the time in the world." There was a reason that Yale just would not happen. Maybe this was it. And all this was a blessing in disguise.

"Tell me what's wrong, so we can fix it."

She blinked, trying to will her tears away. She had heard the description once upon a time, at the height of her disorder, and then only her parents and Dorota knew. And back then she had been proud because she could tell her shrink she did not feel any one of them, and the consulting cardiologist could nod along and eliminate the possibilities.

And now every one of the symptoms was there.

Just when she needed to be healthy and alive. Just when she wanted to be healthy and alive.

Why did old diseases come creeping back like a thief in the night?

"Sometimes," she related, "I wake up and I can't breathe, like there's this heavy pressure on my chest bearing down and suffocating me. And then I do something so simple and I get dizzy. Or I want to vomit. My whole vision gets black and I feel like I would fall down any second."

"Blair, do you know what all that is telling me?"

Blair nodded. "Two years ago, we ruled it out. But maybe now it's real."

"Well, maybe we can rule it out today. And you can sleep easy tonight."

"Please," Blair acquiesced. She held out her arm and presented her wrist to the doctor.

The doctor placed her fingers on her pulse point. Blair watched the somber expression on her OB's face. The eyes lifted, then met hers. The doctor put on her stethoscope, then placed the cold chestpiece over her heart.

"Breathe in. Now out." The chestpiece moved to her back. "And again." The doctor sat back down in her seat. "We can fix it," the doctor said, and Blair felt her heart skip and beat, then tumble and break.

"It's because of the bulimia," she whispered.

"Maybe it is, or maybe not," said the doctor. "But I need you to come back tomorrow for an ECG and an echo. And then we need to consult with a specialist—maybe two. You need to be patient, and positive through all this, Blair. Will you do that?" She nodded. "This might not be because of the bulimia. Some expectant mothers may get this problem too. We don't know anything until we need more tests, and more specialists on this case. And you need people to rely on. Are you sure you don't want your husband to know?"

To which, she countered, "Are the babies in danger?"

"I can't answer that yet."

Blair picked up the printout of her twins' sonogram. "Chuck will know when he needs to know. In the meantime, everything's perfect. Please make sure the specialists we're consulting will be billing me using the details I'll provide tomorrow." Her father would understand. She would call him in France. He would know what to do.

The door opened, and Chuck stepped inside. "Your Highness, your limo's here." He nodded towards the doctor. "We'll see you in two weeks, doc."

"Bye, Mr Bass."

Blair quickly stood up, then handed the printout to Chuck. "Look what I have."

Chuck looked down at the picture she held, then pronounced, "There's the prince and princess of the Upper East Side." He wrapped his arm around her waist. "What do you think of us donating a wing to St Jude's and Constance? That should secure us at least two places for the children when they're ready for school."

tbc


	36. Chapter 36

**Part 36**

"So how about lunch, Mrs Bass?" came her husband's voice through her cell.

"Mr Bass," she answered lightly. "I have to decline. I'm out with a friend."

Dorota raised an eyebrow at her, then shook out the folded blanket that she had brought with her. The maid pulled away the plain white blanket covering her legs and spread the expensive sheet over her limbs. Blair gave Dorota a grateful smile, then turned her attention to the image on the screen. It was kind of like getting an ultrasound for the babies, only this time it was not as fun or breathtaking.

"What are you doing?" Chuck asked.

The door opened and Blair looked up to see her mother peeking inside. She waved her in. "Shopping," she answered easily. "Ouch!" she cried when the technician pressed firmly against her ribcage. The metal was cold and very hard, and it was almost like the technician was pressing it into her skin and past muscle. Blair held her hand over the mic. "That hurt."

The technician muttered an apology. "I'm trying to get a clear picture, Mrs Bass."

"What is that?" she heard him say over the phone.

Blair settled down on the bed, then told him, "Tight, uncomfortable shoes. Looks like I won't be getting the new Prada pumps."

"Don't worry, Blair. When you have the babies, your feet will go back to their normal size. I'll buy you all the latest."

Blair grinned. She felt her mother's hand cover hers. She tightened her fingers around Eleanor's. "I'd love that." Because that should make her happy. Any young woman would love to get presents from her husband. And if she could not be happy about it, then he would suspect. "I'm going to hit a couple of boutiques. I want to get the babies a couple of onesies."

"We agreed to shop for baby stuff together," he reminded her.

"I know. But you're in the office and I was bored."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just one each. I want to buy the rest with you. Or else you'd have them in identical outfits."

"That would be cute!" she protested.

"Bass men don't roll like that, Mrs Bass. We have a definite fashion sense."

She chuckled, imagining her little girl in a teeny Eleanor Original and her little boy in sparkly old man attire because that would definitely be Chuck's choice. She would have a toddler wearing dress pants and a shirt and tie in no time. Knowing Chuck, he would probably have leather shoes custom-made for her son by the time he was—well… toddling.

"I'll make it up to you," she promised. "Come home early tonight. I'll have a nice meal waiting for you. Candelit," she added.

"Takeout?" he asked.

She huffed. "Dorota," she answered.

"I love Dorota's pork chop au pouvre."

"I'll help her with the sauce. I'm under kitchen training with Dorota."

"Sounds delicious. Gifts?"

"Optional," she told him, "but would be appreciated."

"Gifts then," Chuck decided. "I love you."

"I love you more," she answered.

"You can't prove that," he said lightly. "One of these days I'll find a computer app that can calculate that so we can settle this once and for all."

She hung up with a silly smile on her face, and was met with Dorota's disapproving stare.

"I no like this, Miss Blair. Poor Mr Chuck. You didn't tell him anything," Dorota said in clear disapproval.

"Dorota, it's not like it would help him if I get him worried," Blair explained softly. "I'll tell him when there's something to tell."

And then Eleanor brought out the littlest eyelet dress she had ever seen. Blair reached out to touch a garterized white lace headband that matched.

"Anything for the boy?" Blair prompted.

Eleanor waved the question away. "I only recently expanded to men's wear," Eleanor reminded her daughter. "I can't do baby boy clothes yet."

"Having favorites so early," Blair commented. "That is just fantastic."

Eleanor waited until the technician set aside her equipment and stepped out of the room. Her mother shook her head. "Believe me, you're going to need me to shower your daughter with attention. That boy is the first one from your father's side of the family. You're Harold's only child, and from the looks of it, that's going to stand. And that boy is Bart Bass' grandson."

"It's not the eighteenth century, mom. My girl might be more of a celebrity."

"Like Serena? Please!" Eleanor patted her legs through the blanket that Dorota brought. "Waldorf women are not celebrities or socialites."

"We're businesswomen," Blair added laughingly.

Dorota folded her arms across her chest, then turned to Eleanor. "You no talk to Miss Blair?"

"Of course I will," Eleanor answered. She gestured for patience. "It's a matter of timing, Dorota." Blair felt her body grow warm. "I sketched the perfect new form for you after you have the baby. It will flatter the curves that you'll still have and hide all the weight you've gained while you're working it off."

"Mom, I hope you're not thinking of pastels," Blair warned.

"Miss Blair not like pastels," Dorota shared, shuddering at perhaps the memory of that one time Blair had screeched at the sight of a new dress that Eleanor had sent to her—it had been a plain pastel blue dress.

The horror.

And then Blair considered, "But I don't want the same old black dresses. I'll have babies in tow. Babies and black don't mix."

"Jewel tones, Blair," Eleanor told her. "We'll go for rich hues—rubies and emeralds and sapphires. You'll see. You're gorgeous. You're too young to let yourself go and be an ugly mom who doesn't make an effort."

They looked up when the cardiologist arrived with her OB. Eleanor patted Blair's hand. The doctor held the sheet result in his hands. He walked over to Blair and extended his hand, "I'm Ron Fagel. I want you to know that you are in very good hands, Blair."

Blair's lips curved, her eyes slanted uncertainly. "Do I need to be in the good hands of a cardiologist?" she asked, easing into the results.

But Eleanor was more direct to the point. "Did she develop any complications?"

"Mom—" Blair protested.

"Shhhhh."

It was the first time that Blair noticed the tension in the way that her mother sat.

The doctor lowered his chart, then informed Blair, in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, "Mrs Bass, I will be talking you, along with your OB, about the result of your test." He nodded at Eleanor and Dorota. "Would you like to do this alone?"

She did not. She wanted to do it with Chuck.

But she was not going to call him until she needed to.

"Go ahead," she whispered.

"Blair, we found something," he began. "And I want to talk you through how we're going too—"

"No!" she exclaimed, interrupting the doctor.

Dorota wringed her hands, then looked at her in shocked disappointment. "Miss Blair, let the doctor talk."

"This isn't right," she decided. "You found something."

"Yes."

Blair closed her eyes, then rubbed her temples. She took deep, calming breaths. Blair looked up at her mother, then opened her mouth.

Eleanor sighed, read her daughter because Blair could even speak. "Do you want me to call him?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, mom."

Eleanor shook her head, then smiled. "That's what happens when children grow up." To the doctor, she said, "Would you mind coming back with the results when Mr Bass has arrived? We're going to call him now."

Dr Fagel nodded his head. "I understand what you mean. When they were younger they'd come to you when they get the smallest cut. Now there's someone else out there."

Blair lay down on the bed, lightheaded and queasy. She closed her eyes. Her OB went up to her and said, "Blair, lie on your left side. It should make it easier." So she did and felt the world spin slower than it had been spinning.

Blair opened her eyes and saw Dorota frowning as she pulled a folder from her bag. Dorota handed it to the doctor and said, "Miss Blair can't be sick. You look. Her heart was all fine."

Eleanor's lips parted. "Dorota, those are Blair's birth records. From my office."

No discussion, she decided. She was not going to listen to anything until he was there. She closed her eyes and drowned out the voices.

"Mrs Bass," she heard calling her up from her sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open and the face swam over her. Blair focused on the person hovering over her. She broke into a smile when she recognized Chuck.

"So is this your surprise for dinner tonight?" he asked. He lowered his lips onto hers. "I've got to say, Mrs Bass. It leaves much to be desired."

He teased; his voice was light. But she could see the fear in his eyes.

"You're here," she greeted.

"Of course. The moment they told me you were here—" he trailed off. He then cleared his throat. "Blair, did you pass out while you were shopping?"

She blinked tearfully, then admitted, "I wasn't shopping."

"You said—"

"I lied. I'm sorry," she said. He cocked his head, then looked disappointed, but held her hand. "I came here for an echo. I hadn't been feeling well, but I didn't want you to worry unless there's something wrong."

"So," he began uncertainly, "there's something wrong?"

"I think so," she whispered.

Chuck straightened, then released a deep breath. "The doctor's on his way. Your mother's waiting outside." She nodded, then clutched his hand when Dr Fagel walked inside.

The cardiologist extended his hand to Chuck, then noticed how Chuck's left hand was inside Blair's and his right covered hers. "Mrs Bass," he said, picking up where he left off, "I understand that you're thirty weeks along." She nodded. "Based on what I've found, I would strongly suggest that you opt for a c-section as soon as possible."

Blair's hand tightened on his. "It's too early. No."

"What did you find?" Chuck asked.

"First of all, dizziness is normal at this stage of your pregnancy. But your vision blacking out, throwing up violently on your last trimester—those aren't."

"Blair," Chuck said softly. She met his eyes, and found the surprise registered there. And when he said, "I didn't know," she could read his gaze as, 'You didn't tell me.'

And somehow that was more frightening that the doctor's words. "We found a slight swelling in your heart, Mrs Bass." The cardiologist spoke to her slowly, setting a diagram in front of her and pointing with the tip of his pen. "When this ventricle is enlarged, it causes your heart to have to work harder in order to pump blood. The heavier it works to meet your blood's oxygen requirement, the most exhausted you are. With the added weight of the children, your heart has been working nonstop at this rate. But even then, sometimes, you are still going to be breathless and fatigued."

"So you want to take them out now?"

"We will tap the best in the country. But we need to lose the pressure on your heart."

"They still need six weeks," Blair reminded his cardiologist.

"A lot of children survive being born this early, Mrs Bass. At this moment, my concern is about you. I'm avoiding any chance of a heart failure."

"And if we don't take them out?" she asked.

"We'll take them out," Chuck decided.

"Chuck, did you hear what he said? A lot of children survive. He didn't say all. Why are you willing to take that chance?"

Chuck returned with, "Did you heart what he said? About you."

"They need time to fully develop."

Dr Fagel assured her, "I've consulted your OB, and she assures me that your twins look like they have a great chance at this. Your children look strong."

"So she's going to perform the operation?"

"She will be there. I will be in the room to monitor you. And we're asking a specialist to come in during the delivery to oversee the procedure. Her reputation is solid, and I trust her to manage the delivery of premature twins and still observe your state. Mr and Mrs Bass, this is the best option that we know. This will work."

Blair breathed deeply, then said, "I want to think about it."

"As soon as you've decided, let us know so we can book an operating room."

"That soon?" Chuck slid in.

"Sooner if possible." To Blair, he said, "You'll be fine. The twins will be alright. At least we caught it early."

Blair laid down on her back, then remembered her OB telling her to lie on her side. She did, and Dr Fagel nodded. She met the doctor's eyes, then asked quietly, "Is it because of the bulimia?"

Before Dr Fagel could confirm or deny her suspicion, Chuck interrupted, "It doesn't matter. Whatever caused it, Blair, we don't need to know now." He asked the doctor, "And afterwards, what do we do?"

"Then you take home the babies and you start your family. Mrs Bass, sometimes pregnant women have these symptoms and eventually after they're given birth their hearts recover and return to normal. That's what we're hoping for. If it doesn't, there are maintenance pills that you can take. I would start you on them, but given your condition, we are opting not to expose your babies to the chemicals. And you need to avoid strenuous activities that will tire you."

When the doctor closed the door, Blair heard the thud of Chuck's shoe hitting the floor. And then another thud for the next one.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said softly.

She noticed him walking down to the small closet in her hospital suite, then hanging his jacket and his tie. Chuck removed his belt and hung it in there as well, then made his way back to her while undoing the top buttons of his shirt. "I know," he answered. He climbed into the bed behind her then pressed his body against her back, placing an arm across her swollen abdomen and hugging his entire family close. "So the dinner surprise didn't turn as we planned."

That brought tears to her eyes. "Chuck, I don't want any of this."

"I know," he said again.

"Make it all stop," she requested. She turned on her back, then laid on her right side, facing him. "Please, Chuck."

"I can't," he admitted.

"Why not?" she whispered. "You can do anything, Chuck. You got me to marry you right when I was so angry. You saved Bass Industries from the crapper. You challenged genetics and got me pregnant with twins when there have never been twins in my family or yours," she enumerated. "You made my mom love you," she continued laughingly.

"That was a feat," he returned.

"I wish when I wake up this was all a dream."

And all he could say was, "Me too." He kissed the nape of her neck, relished the movement of the children under his hands. "They're really strong, Blair," he observed. "I can feel them, and they're moving like crazy in there. They'll survive an early c-section. I want you to have it," he stated.

So it was there on the table. He had picked his side. And now it was up to her.

"Premature babies are more prone to complications," she said.

"One step at a time." He buried his nose in her shoulder. "That's what we did in Bass. Study the financials; draft the proposal; pitch it to investors; lock the money in and show the board. We'll do it the same way. Right now, what I want is to release the pressure on your heart."

Maybe it was the stress, maybe the exhaustion. She laughed. "You want to fix my broken heart."

Maybe it was the stress, maybe the exhaustion. He could not bring himself around to laugh. He brought his hand up to press his palm over her left breast, covering her heart.

"Please," he said somberly. "Let's have the c-section tomorrow."

She closed her eyes. She could feel his tension in his fingers, so she covered the hand that he held over her heart. "I love you, Chuck." He held his breath, did not respond. "You need to remind me about the pills. I'm never going to remember to take medication every day."

"I'll keep a bottle of them in my pocket from the day Fagel prescribes them to you. You'll never miss a day."

"They're going to be a handful. Your son is bound to be uncontrollable. He'll run around and make us chase after him to keep him from hurting himself."

"I'll run after the kid," he volunteered.

"So while you're running after him, someone needs to take the girl. She might be moody, and someone has to draw her out so she doesn't keep it all in."

"And she would need you for that. I wouldn't know how to talk to her, Blair."

"You knew how to talk to me," she offered.

"Help me out. Stay with us."

Eleanor and Dorota returned to the room. Blair turned to them, and said, "Call dad. Tomorrow, we're going to have two new babies."

"Thank you," he said into her ear. "I love you too."

tbc


	37. Chapter 37

**Part 37**

"Swear," Chuck said into the phone. "I'm not putting the phone down until you swear, S."

"I said I promise, didn't I?" came Serena's retort over the phone.

"The helicopter is on its way to pick you up," he informed his stepsister. He had only just finished making arrangements for Harold to fly back in time for tomorrow, and Chuck needed to make sure that Serena would be there as well. "Bring a couple of stuffed animals for the kids."

"You want me to haul stuffed toys from Brown to Manhattan? Please, Chuck, it's not like you can't buy factories of stuffed giraffes yourself."

Chuck's eyebrows rose as he made his way towards Blair's hospital room. "That's not the point, Serena. The point is that I want my wife to see that you got the kids something."

He could almost hear the eye roll. "Look, I don't want to have to stop over to get gifts, Chuck. I want to see my best friend who suddenly has to get a c-section the day I arrive in Brown." A moment's pause, and then she asked, "Have you called Nate yet?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's not family," Chuck responded.

"Stop it with the jealousy already."

"I'm not jealous," Chuck denied. "You're invited because by some stroke of luck you happened to be my sister."

"You're telling me because I'm Blair's best friend," Serena pointed out. "And you need to tell Nate because he's your best friend. I thought you settled this. Blair is all yours," Serena told him slowly, like she were talking to a child.

"That doesn't mean he's completely fine with it. I don't play well with guys who think they have some hold over my wife." Forcing himself into a tentative friendship with Marcus had been awful enough, even if he only did it to find a way to get Blair back.

"Call him," Serena insisted. "Because I'm going to tell him anyway. Wouldn't it be better if it came from you?"

"Fine," Chuck bit out.

He looked up when he saw the door of Blair's room slightly ajar. He walked over, then stopped when he heard Blair say, "Just tell me what you want."

"Do you honestly think it would be that easy? Do you have any comprehension of how much we're talking about?"

"I signed a prenup. I think I have an idea. Actually, everyone in New York has an idea."

"He'll never got for it."

"I'll take care of it."

Chuck locked his jaw, then pushed the door open, and was taken aback at the sight of a man whose back was turned to him. Blair sat on her hospital bed, her attention turned to the guest.

"Hello," Chuck greeted. Blair started up on the bed, and the man turned to face him. "Jack," Chuck said softly when he recognized the man. "You're visiting my wife."

His uncle took a deep breath, then flashed him a smile. "Well, I found out that the little Basses are arriving early," Jack explained. "From the secretary too. Such a shame I didn't get your message."

"I didn't leave you any," he replied.

"You must have been busy," Jack said dismissively. "Anyway, I know now so I came to bring Blair some flowers." Jack nodded towards the tall flowers in the vase behind him, which he had arranged himself. "Blair always did love stargazers."

"She does," Chuck agreed. She looked exhausted, just a little on the pale side. "I didn't know you knew enough to get her favorite flowers."

"Of course. Every man has to learn his environment, especially when it's new." Jack gave Blair a cool smile. "And I found out a lot about Mrs Bass those weeks that we were looking for you."

Chuck walked up to the bed, and saw at once his wife's open hand. He twined his fingers with hers, then informed his uncle, "We have an early day tomorrow."

"Well," Jack said, clasping his hands in front of him. "That's my cue to leave." He turned to Blair, then took her free hand and raised it to his lips. "Always a pleasure, Mrs Bass," he said, dragging out the last name, prolonging, almost caressing it with his tongue.

Chuck waited until Jack was a few steps away, then asked his wife, "What was that?"

Her response was, "What did you hear?"

"I didn't hear anything," he answered testily.

She shrugged, took a deep breath, and Chuck worried about the tension on her face. The door opened and Blair's nurse stepped into the room. "Lola," Chuck greeted the woman. Jack slipped out behind the nurse.

The nurse smiled, then approached Blair and checked the heart monitors beside the bed. "Just checking on you and the babies, Mrs Bass," she explained.

"You just left a half an hour ago," Blair responded. "You weren't due for another hour and a half."

"Lola's very attentive," Chuck commented.

"There was a spike on your heart rate, and the monitors at my station were showing distress. I wanted to be sure."

Chuck turned and glared at the doorway. "While Jack was here," he concluded.

"You should rest, Mrs Bass." The nurse refreshed the monitor, then said to Blair, "Your stress levels aren't going down. I'll give you something to calm you down."

Chuck waited while the nurse administered the low dose, then told Blair, "Serena and Nate will be here to see the babies. Everything will be fine. Your father is already in flight with Roman. Everyone will be here. You don't have anything to worry about."

Blair nodded, and Chuck despised the nervous look in her eyes. He placed a kiss on her forehead, then sat down on the bed. He watched her, observed every flicker of her gaze from him to the door behind him, noticed the large movement of her chest as she struggled to maintain her breathing. He reached for a glass of water and handed it to her. Blair drank and returned the glass to him gratefully.

"Relax," he reminded her.

She gave him a thin smile. "We'll be parents tomorrow. The word won't exist in our world."

He was not trained to read those monitors, but as uneducated as he was at the profession, he knew enough to know that the erratic lines on the monitor was not good. He did not appreciate the lie, but knew better than to push.

"Blair," he said.

He felt a pang when she looked at him and almost looked ashamed.

"We haven't decided on the names," he told her, covering a hand that shook. Tonight when she was asleep, he would settle this. Right now, she needed to be calm. "I was thinking we could do what we do what we do best."

Almost reluctantly, her face pulled into a smile. "I'm not in any condition to have sex with you, Chuck."

He celebrated his little success in his head. "If we wanted to, I could find a way."

"I'm sure you could," she murmured, then pressed her lips on his.

"But what I meant was, we could make a game of it. We're never going to mutually agree on a name," he said, "do the best way to address this is to give just one person the decision."

"Easy," she responded. "I'm carrying them, and I'm going to get sliced up tomorrow for them." Chuck winced at the little, humorous description she used. "I should get to decide."

Chuck took her hand, and raised it to his lips. "Mrs Bass, I'm expecting you will use that a lot to get your way during this marriage."

She grinned. "You know I will."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you," he replied. "So what about if now you gave me at least an opportunity to name the kid. And then every day after this, you get to use the c-section and the nine months you had to carry them to get your way?"

She giggled, then nodded. "Although technically, it's seven and a half."

Chuck winked, then offered, "You can use nine for maximum effect. It should work with the children too if they become uncontrollable." Blair's shoulders relaxed, and Chuck quickly glanced at the monitor. The lines were becoming more regular, so he continued, "Imagine the kind of advantage it will give you if your son starts dating someone you don't approve of."

She made a face. "Like someone from Brooklyn." Blair shuddered. "Then I'll pout and remind him about the arduous months I carried him, and the fact that I had to get a bikini cut c-section to deliver him." She laughed. "That won't work, especially if he has my temper."

"He'll fall for it hook, line and sinker if he's anything like me."

"Really?" she said with a grin.

"Bass men can't resist you."

Her grin faded, and she pulled her hand out from his grasp.

"Blair—"

"Chuck, it's late. I have surgery tomorrow," she reminded him.

Chuck licked his lips, then sighed. He offered, "I'll sleep here with you."

"That's ridiculous," she replied. Blair gathered the blanket around her waist, then lied down on the bed. "Just come back early so you can see me before we go in."

"I'm going to stay with you," he decided.

"Whatever you want."

"I'll be right back." He leaned down to kiss her, and she turned her head so his lips met her cheek. Chuck placed his hand on her belly, then said, "I'll see you tomorrow, guys. Sleep tight."

He took his phone out of his pocket, then made his way out of the room. He closed the door behind him, then found Jack standing outside, leaning back against the nurse's station. He narrowed his eyes, then strode towards his uncle.

"Mrs Bass asleep for the night?"

Chuck did not answer the question. He jerked his head towards the fire escape. Jack followed behind him. When they were both in the staircase landing, he demanded, "What the hell do you want?"

"I knew you were lying when you said you didn't hear anything." Jack shook his head. "You sound angry. I'm not the person you should be angry at. I did what I do. You shouldn't be surprised."

"What do you want?" Chuck repeated.

"I want more shares than Lily. It's ridiculous that she has more control of this company than I do," Jack replied.

"Is that it?" Chuck whispered, his voice a little menacing.

Jack's lips curved. "I want to run my own division."

"You're running Bass Australia," Chuck reminded his uncle.

"That's because my brother wanted to throw me out of his life. It's worth nothing to a man who wants to establish his business credibility here."

"I worked my ass off to get my own division," Chuck told him.

"I worked my ass off for this company," Jack returned. "I want real estate." It was the biggest, the most profitable, the most influential.

"Done."

Chuck turned around to go back, but Jack called to halt him. "Don't you want to know?"

Chuck stopped with his hand on the knob. He turned his head, but did not look at Jack. "I have an idea."

"Don't you want to know for sure? You just gave me control over more than eighty billion dollars, Chuck."

"I don't want you talking to my wife. That's it."

Jack frowned. "You're really just going back in there? You're going to pretend that's everything's fine?"

Chuck rested his forehead on the doorway, counted to ten, then slowly turned to face his uncle. His voice was low when he recounted, "My wife is sick, and we need to deliver the twins prematurely because she can't carry them full term. After tomorrow, Jack, Blair is going on medication and I'm going to have two children in incubators. That is what I'm going back to, and I will damn well pretend everything's fine."

Chuck turned and opened the door.

"You're just like your father."

Chuck gave his uncle one last glare, before slamming the door resoundingly behind him. He walked down the corridor to return to Blair's room. His eyes widened when he saw the door wide open when he had made sure to shut it.

And then the flurry of white coats flew out. Chuck heard the wheels, the metal, then saw them pushing Blair out of the room. Chuck pushed his way forward, saw the oxygen mask.

His heart stopped when he met her eyes. She was terrified.

He raced after the team to the elevator, then grasped Blair's hand as they wheeled her to the operating room. "I love you," he whispered into her ear as they took her.

Blair removed the mask, then gasped, "We didn't get to play the game. They don't have names."

"We'll do it first thing when you wake up."

She nodded. "Chuck, I'm sorry."

And it was all about tonight, and all about Jack. And somehow, it did not seem fair to him that it would be the thought in their heads at this point. "Don't worry about anything." And Jack was right in that at least. He was going to go back to pretend. "It's all perfect, Blair. We're perfect."

Jack could insult it all he wanted, but he had made Blair nod and smile. Chuck placed the oxygen mask back on.

"You have to bring it when you wake up because I will wipe the floor with your ass on any game. I might name the girl after you. Cornelia."

She made a disgusted face, and Chuck smiled when they took her away.

Blair's OB stopped beside him. Chuck turned to the doctor, bewildered. "She's scheduled for tomorrow. What's going on?"

"Nurse Giles called me with the reading from Blair's monitor." Lola, Chuck recalled. "Mr Bass, I want you to understand that your wife is on the verge of an arrest. We need to do this now."

"The doctor," Chuck gasped. "The surgeon is going to fly in California tomorrow."

"We can't wait."

Chuck glanced at his watch.

Stupid.

As if looking at the time would make a difference, as if checking the watch would make the plane go faster, as if glaring at the short and long hands of the diamond-studded face would freeze time.

"I won't have any middle-rate doctor cutting into her when she's in this condition."

"As if happens, Mr Bass, one of the premier OB surgeons are here in Manhattan right now for another patient. The chief has called in Dr Johnson for this case."

The woman killed his mother.

"She is not touching my wife."

"We need to do this, Chuck. Dr Johnson has been practicing for thirty years and she has a pristine record. Jump at this chance. It will save your wife's life."

Chuck frowned. "A pristine record," he repeated.

"Of course, Mr Bass. We wouldn't give you anything less."

tbc


	38. Chapter 38

**Part 38**

Since he was three years old, Chuck Bass had been to all the most beautiful places in the whole world. When he was three, his father took him to Disneyland. Bart's girlfriend then had been a just legalized haute couture model, so the trip had been for both the son and the young girlfriend's entertainment. When Chuck was four, his father took him on a trip to the Star Wars museum. By then Bart had been dating a movie producer, so he had thought to impress the woman by closing the establishment to the public. Chuck could then hog everything.

Chuck was eight years old the first time he saw Paris. But he could still remember being left in his hotel suite while Bart took out a Parisian painter to dinner. The date would be in the Eiffel Tower, Bart told the boy. When Chuck woke up in the middle of the night plagued by a nightmare, he had looked out the window to see the breathtaking lights of Paris.

In the morning his father woke him up and told him that the Parisian painter, Isabel was her name if Chuck remembered correctly, would take him to the Louvre. And Chuck learned under her tutelage and lilting English the greatest works of art that the Renaissance produced.

When he was in third grade his entire class at St Jude's took a trip to the pyramids, and the boys were in awe at the majestic buildings. But it did not compare to their fourth grade trip to China when they all formed a line to cross a portion of the Great Wall. Everyone was happy, but the school was ecstatic.

Field trips in any other school did not get as much profit as the creative choices that the headmaster made.

He was twelve when he visited Morocco. It was sophisticated, but underneath it was sleazy and interesting and all kinds of addicting. A boy who would soon be in his teens adored it. Fast cars and classy women who were loose all underneath their designer clothes. The buildings were gorgeous, and the casinos had every color of light invented to man.

Every classical ballet, he had seen. Every opera, he had heard. Every cuisine, he had tasted.

But there was no sight more beautiful than the slightly puffy skin around Blair's eyes when she opened them.

There was no sound more staggering than her raspy voice when she cleared his throat and begged for water.

No taste ever been so delectable than her mouth as she pulled herself awake.

"Good morning," he greeted. Maybe he needed water too. He was as dry as the Sahara, which he incidentally had never visited. At the strength of her grasp, he knew someday he could visit it with her.

"Is it morning?" she said softly. "That hangover was a bitch."

"The kind of anesthetic they gave you would have that effect. Pity I didn't discover it when I was young and unruly," Chuck told her.

"Thank God for small favors," she murmured. Blair raised her heavy arm and then placed a hand on his cheek. "You look like hell."

Her eyes were puffy; her hand bloated and hot around the tube sticking out from the back. Her lips were dry and cracked, and her hair was a frightening mess.

"You're stunning," he assured her.

She smiled tearfully at him, allowing him to lie because it was exactly what she needed. She drew her hand down and rested it on her left breast. Chuck felt the steady thumping under his hand, stronger than usual. The monitor beside her head showed him the rhythm still unsteady, but better than the night before.

"Are they beautiful?" Blair asked, her hands tightening around his.

"Of course they are."

But she could tell when his voice was off, and he knew it from the moment he spoke.

"You haven't seen them," Blair surmised.

"I was waiting for you."

She smiled at him gratefully. When it came down to it, she was going to want to tell the children that she and Chuck saw them together for the first time. She was just that competitive. "You didn't even check to see if they were okay?" she asked, almost seeming to force herself to give up childish competition. She was a mother now.

But you never took that away from Blair Waldorf-Bass. Just like you never took away the fact that she would forever be a queen. "Your entire clan is there," he told her. Her tired eyes sparkled in triumph. "And so is mine."

"Who arrived first?"

And he had talked to Lily even as the woman raced to the nursery. Chuck had pulled aside his stepmother when the elevator doors opened and Eleanor, Cyrus and Dorota stepped out. He had given Eleanor ten minutes headstart before allowing Lily to go.

"Your mother and her husband saw them first of course."

The brilliant smile on her face was enough to neutralize the scolding he received from Lily once Lily realized that he had held her back for no particular reason.

"And then Lily. Your dad and Roman arrived a couple of hours later. They all said the babies are beautiful."

She nodded. "Did the doctors tell you anything? Are they going to be okay? They're still so young."

"You son is four pounds and nine ounces, and your daughter is just under five pounds," he said gently. Her face crumpled, and Chuck noticed the deep breath she took. Realizing his mistake, he quickly amended, "That is very good, Blair. They're heavier than many twins at seven and a half months of gestation."

He would not be able to completely reassure her until she had seen the babies, but at least she was less pale, less afraid. He pressed the call button for the nurse.

"Gestation?" She crinkled her nose. "You sound like you've memorized the doctor's words."

"Didn't I tell you?" he said to her. "I have photographic memory."

She grinned. "Yet you never got anything better than a C on tests that required memory work."

"I don't use my powers on any old boring test. But this," he assured her, "this I'm interested in." She smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I've been sliced open and someone went through my insides before sewing me back up." She sat up on the bed, then winced and grabbed her healing wound. Chuck caught her by her arm and eased her up. He pressed the button on her bed to elevate the head. "Wait," she said, gritting her teeth. "That's exactly what happened to me."

"That's right," Chuck said easily. "And we agreed that you're going to use it for your own gain for as many times as you want."

She laughed softly, careful not to overdo it for fear of her wound ripping. "You are going to be such a pushover."

He shrugged. "I have two children now. I'm going to end up a pushover either way."

"Chuck, about Jack—"

He hushed her, then placed his thumb on her lips. "Doesn't matter one bit."

She grasped his wrist with her hand, then pulled his hand away. She was going to speak, and she was going to address it, no matter what he said. And he would have preferred that they buried it deep down where it would take tornadoes and earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis to unearth it.

But she was determined to speak and so he kept himself silent, steeled himself against whatever hurt that it would cause.

After all, he had vanished—abandoned her after she told him she loved him.

He hurt her more than anyone had ever done before.

He prepared himself to hear her blame it on the way he left.

"You're right," she said, her voice strong. "It didn't matter. Not at all. Not like a single kiss from you mattered."

The tension in his shoulders released, seeping through his clothes and melting down into the floor.

"It was one night," Blair confessed to him. For the first time, her voice tightened, broke almost. "You can't know how much I hated myself for it."

He shook his head. "No more," he said, despising the idea that Jack had done as much. Directly or not, Jack Bass had given her cause to feel that way about herself. Directly or not, he contributed to her view of herself that led to all this. "You're my wife," he told her. "No one hates my wife and gets away with it."

She nodded, smiling through the moisture that seeped from her eyes. "Everyone is required to love Mrs Bass."

Chuck kissed her temple. "We'll make this perfect. I swear." He glanced behind him at the door, then straightened at the sight of the nurse. He tried to speak louder, because his voice had taken that volume that he reserved only for her when they were in bed. "Have you been there long, Lola?"

The nurse shook her head. "Just now, Mr Bass. Blair, how are you?"

Blair buried her face in Chuck's shirt to dry her eyes. It was Chuck who answered for her. "We'd like to see the twins."

The nurse responded, "Of course. I'll bring in a wheelchair."

When Lola returned with the wheelchair and offered to help, Chuck waved her to the drip. Blair looked towards the nurse in confusion. "Lola, I'm still a little tender," she said. When she straightened, she hissed, "A lot tender."

"It's alright, Blair." Chuck placed her arm around his shoulders. He winked at the nurse. "Lola has to check on your drip. Let me help you to your chair." Chuck helped her up in slow, small movements. "Easy. Not so fast. The last time I talked to your father, he said the children's legs are still a little too short for them to run away."

She giggled, then groaned in complaint. "Don't make me laugh please. It hurts."

"Sorry," he muttered.

Chuck helped her into the chair. He then picked up a large Hermes scarf and placed it over her lap. Lola pushed the drip to her side. Chuck held up a hand. Blair grinned. "What now? Another joke?"

"No," he answered. Chuck turned his back on her, then bent down to pick up something from the bottom shelf of the bedside table, showing him a rather good view of her ass. When he straightened, he found her smirking. "Anything funny?"

She licked her lips. "Were you trying to turn me on, Mr Bass?" She jerked her head towards Lola, who had on a grin as well. "Or was the target Lola, given that I won't be able to sleep with you for a few more months at least?" He shook his head, completely at a loss. "Your ass, Mr Bass. Your ass is mine. Don't go flaunting it to every random other woman."

He felt the flush climb in his cheeks. "I wasn't—"

She extended her hand towards him. "I was kidding." He took her hand and let her tug him towards her. "Come here, Mr Bass."

He bent down and kissed the top of her head, then nodded at Lola. "Let's see if the kids got lucky and look more like Mrs Bass than they do me."

Blair chuckled, then squeezed his hand. "I don't know. I think the babies will look gorgeous if they look like you."

"That's because you love me," he answered. Chuck held up her bag, then opened it and handed her her small makeup bag. "They're armed with one camera each," he informed her, referring the friends and family who were already outside the nursery. "I know you don't want to look like you just got out of surgery in the pictures. They'll be all over Facebook and all the baby albums."

"You said I looked stunning."

"You're stunning to me. But I'm not taking the chance that you'll hate me in a few months when you look back at the pictures."

He was right and she knew it. Blair popped open her powder case and looked at herself in the mirror. She winced at the sight, then patted powder under her eyes and on her nose. She popped open the lip gloss container and wiped a sheen over her lips. Blair peered inside her bag, then pursed her lips. "I don't have a brush."

Chuck took a comb from his pocket, then showed it to her. "I have mine." She reached for it. Chuck held it away from her. "Are we that close already?" he teased.

"I just had two—" she held up two fingers, "—of your babies."

He ran the comb quickly through her hair. Chuck picked up the headband from inside her bag, then placed it on her head.

Chuck pushed the wheelchair out of the room and down the corridor with Lola pushing the drip after them. The nurse pushed the elevator call button. While they waited, Chuck leaned down. He kept his lips close to her ear, then admitted, "What would you say if I told you I had never in my life been this excited and breathless and afraid all at the same time?"

She smiled, then whispered back, "What about when you married me?"

He smirked. "Which time?" She cocked her head. He continued, "Because the first time I thought I was getting away with tricking you, so I was exhilarated. The second time, I was just overwhelmed. Both times, I was the happiest man alive."

She almost looked disappointed. "You weren't afraid at all?"

He thought back to the days, then nodded. "Maybe a little. I was always a little afraid you'd back out."

"That's sweet, and such a lie."

"No lie," he swore, his gaze serious. "I wasn't ever afraid of this. The moment I was sure I loved you, there was no turning back. We were always going to end up like this."

The elevator doors opened, and Chuck wheeled her in. Lola stepped in after them. Blair took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. "You're too much," she said. "Something is with you today. From the moment I woke up, you've been too much."

The elevator doors opened, and Chuck reached down to hold the elevator. He knelt down in front of Blair in the wheelchair.

"Chuck, I think it's illegal to hold an elevator in a hospital building," Blair cautioned.

Chuck sighed, then wheeled her out and started the elevator again. He stopped outside, then knelt in front of her again. "We were always going to end up like this. I know you, Blair. When you want someone, you dream of all these movie-perfect scenarios. Me—I make it happen. The day I knew I loved you, we were heading towards this."

Lola stepped away from them, made her way to the nurse's station on that floor.

"This," she repeated.

"I wanted you when I was sixteen years old, and I got you. Nate was nothing."

"So arrogant," she commented softly.

"And then when I was seventeen, I knew I was in love with you."

"Of course," she murmured. "You were just too stubborn to admit it."

He snorted. "I think I showed it enough."

"When I told you I loved you, you said 'Too bad.'"

"There's always an initial resistance before you completely accept it. I think the priest down at the Catholic church near the school knows all about initial resistance, right, Blair?" She grinned, then nodded at the reminder. "We were always going to be married early, no matter what anyone else thought. We were going to have a family, and here we are."

"So you made all this happen?" she said, her tone patronizing.

"You and I made it happen." He leaned down and captured her lips, spreading lipgloss on his own mouth. "Ready to see the children?"

"So ready," she answered. He started to straighten, then Blair caught his hand. "You're setting the bar so high, Chuck."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been too amazing. I don't want to get hurt when it stops."

"It won't," he promised. He kissed her lips. "Let's meet your children." Chuck returned to position behind the wheelchair. Lola came back to assist them, then threw Chuck an admiring look. Chuck wheeled his wife towards the nursery corridor and saw their family before they looked up to see them.

Eleanor, Harold and Dorota still stood outside the glass, cooing and waving at what would likely be a pair of sleeping children. Cyrus had taken to an animated discussion with Roman while Lily nodded along. Serena held onto Nate's arm while she blotted at her eyes.

How fitting was it that it was going to be Archibald that first spotted them?

"Mr and Mrs Bass!" Nate greeted, which was good enough for Chuck.

Chuck grinned. "Did I do a good job or what?"

Nate looked at Blair, then raised her eyebrows. "You're going to let him take credit?"

"It depends," Blair said cheerfully. "Are they cute?"

Eleanor clasped her hands together, then strode towards her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. "Sweetheart, they're adorable!"

"Means they're all you, Miss Blair," Dorota added, but stole a glance at Chuck.

Harold walked over to Chuck and handed him a cigar, then gave Roman, Nate and Cyrus one each. "Once you see them," Harold told his son-in-law, "you'll know they're mostly Blair. So just smoke a cigar with us and let the ladies fuss over the twins."

Chuck placed a cigar in his shirt pocket then pushed the wheelchair over to the glass. Serena pointed to the two clear incubators where the babies were sleeping. Blair's hand covered his on the handle of the chair.

"I want to hold them," she whispered. She pointed to the baby with a shock of thick dark hair. "Chuck, there's my daughter."

"Blair, that's the boy," Cyrus offered. He pointed to the bald baby to the side. "That's your daughter."

She blinked at Cyrus. "Are you kidding?"

Cyrus shrugged his shoulders. "They have beautiful faces."

tbc

Fluff. Lol

So I updated Heaven in Your Embrace earlier today too (Advertising for those who are not reading it)

And I will update Dark Prince of Manhattan tomorrow (Advertising for those who have not yet discovered it)


	39. Chapter 39

**AN: **I knew it wasn't a good idea for me to start any story without a set plotline of when it ends. Sigh.

**Part 39**

He wanted strip poker.

Blair should have expected it, of course. Her husband was Chuck Bass. Father of two or not, he was Chuck Bass. But she would die before she would ever agree that strip poker would be the game that would decide their children's names.

And he had the gall to suggest it while holding her angel of a daughter in his arms.

"Over my dead body," she replied scathingly.

Chuck's face fell. The hand that held up the cards lowered.

"How about trivia?" she suggested.

Chuck looked at her in disgust.

"Work with me here, Chuck." Blair held her son closer to her chest, then sighed when her nipple plopped out of the baby's mouth. The baby's face grew red and crumpled in his anger. "We're going to tell them the story of how we chose their names someday. If we play strip poker for their names, your daughter will end up hating you."

When the babies were first brought to her room they could not wait to get rid of the nurses and their family, and now Chuck looked like he wanted to cry out for help. Her baby girl was sleeping, and it was the boy she was trying to nurse who was mewling in hunger. But Chuck looked more flustered than she did.

The baby boy's mouth searched and found the skin of her breast, then latched to the nipple again and suckled. Chuck saw the action and grinned proudly. "That's my son," he affirmed.

Blair noted the glow of pride in Chuck's eyes at the feat that his days old son managed. She looked down at her son, who was suckling on air like there no tomorrow, his face red and intent. Her milk still had not come, but the doctor wanted her to still start the act of nursing in between feeding the children glucose water. So she did. And Chuck was fascinated by every aspect.

"He's probably going to ask for a high five," Chuck commented.

Blair blinked up at her husband, lost in her own train of thought. "For what?"

"When he finds out that his name was chosen through a game of strip poker," Chuck responded.

The baby boy cried in the anger of not getting any milk from her, and her nipple popped out of his mouth again. The cry cut short when the boy immediately turned his head in an instinctive search of the comforting breast.

Blair saw the awe in Chuck's eyes, then warned him, "No crude jokes."

Chuck smirked, then smelled the baby girl's bald head. To Blair, he replied, "I was just going to say, I have nothing left to teach him."

Blair chuckled, then bit her lip at the almost painful suckling. If the baby's toothless gums hurt this much, she wondered how painful it was going to be once they grew a tooth. By then, she hoped they weren't breastfeeding anymore.

"How is she?" she asked her husband.

Her baby girl looked so small in her daddy's arms, sleeping with one tiny hand inside her mitten resting on Chuck's chest. Chuck nuzzled the girl's neck. "Still sleeping," he answered. "Still smelling like a baby."

"We have to buy her one of those garterized headbands. Or a ribbon." Blair's eyes narrowed as she thought deeply. "Serena and I will brainstorm a way to attach a ribbon on a bald head."

Chuck stepped closer to where Blair sat with the baby boy, then held out their daughter close to Blair. "You don't need to try to make her look like a girl, Blair. Bald or not, look at her eyelashes."

Blair peered closer to the baby, then nodded. They were thick lashes, long ones too. And they curled up without any held from plastic curlers. Still. "Those lashes should be on the top of your head, sweetie," she whispered gently, caressingly.

Chuck drew back and held the baby closer to his chest in a mock protective stunt. "Don't be mean."

Blair pouted at him, reminding him that she was still just as young as him. It was almost like the boy noticed that the attention had turned from him to his sister, because he started sucking more furiously, making a slurping noise. Chuck's gaze flew to the little boy, then said, "Look at him go!"

"Don't cheer him on," she laughed.

"Go, go, go!" he urged softly, doing exactly the opposite of her instructions.

Blair laughed, then held the baby up closer. "I don't know why everyone is saying they're both all me," Blair said. "Look at him. He's so you."

"Well sure," Chuck allowed. "Like that," he told her, motioning to the baby clinging to her breast, "he looks like me."

She giggled. And then she felt it. The stirring, the painful pull, and then another entirely different sort of release of pressure in her chest. She gasped. Her eyes flew to Chuck as they widened. "Oh my God!"

The excitement in his eyes vanished. Chuck moved forward and grasped her arm, supporting her and making sure she did not drop the baby. "What is it?" he asked urgently. "Are you in pain?"

Her eyes filled with water.

"Blair, what's wrong?" Chuck looked towards the monitor by the head of the bed. "Do you need me to call the nurse?"

He looked torn, and she needed to reassure him, but her throat had closed. She sniffled, then shook her head. "I think my milk's come in," she whispered. The pulling sensation on her breast lightened as the baby in her arms had his fill, after two days of empty suckling. The baby's mouth continued to draw milk, more calmly now, less like he was trying to fight to feed. "It feels," she started softly. And then she finished with, "I can't explain it."

And she thought hormones only overcame you while you were pregnant.

The next thing she knew, she was crying into a tissue that Chuck handed her, and her head was on his shoulder even while she nursed her son. His arm was around her shoulders as he squeezed her upper arm. "I'm not sad," she said, setting his expectations.

"Of course you're not," he answered. "Why would you be?"

She had all her family in New York since the birth of the babies. Her best friends in the whole world were back from school for the week, even if they only just started college. Her husband was completely devoted to her. And she had a strong little baby boy and an angelic little girl who would probably grow hair soon.

"I'm not!" she replied. Blair breathed deeply, then finally relaxed. The baby in her arms drifted to sleep in satiation, and slowly released her nipple. The baby's lips came way wet and a little white with milk for the very first time. Her heart expanded at the sight. She held out her arm for the baby girl. "Her turn," she said.

Chuck quickly moved to offer the infant girl, then blinked. He moved his arm to position the girl, then realized that he would need two hands to get the boy. Blair frowned. Her husband's neck was growing red, a sign of an ever escalating panic. He could not figure out how to exchange babies. To top it off, his eyes kept drifting to her exposed wet nipple.

"Chuck!" she said sharply, to draw his attention back to the task at hand.

"Wait a minute. I need to call someone." Chuck turned towards the door.

Blair sighed. Her mother would know what to do. Of course, Eleanor only ever had one child. Lily—one at a time. No teaching from either of those two.

She wondered if Dorota ever took care of twins.

Chuck opened the door when Blair spied the baby beds parked in the corner of the room. She rolled her eyes. At least she had a reason not to have remembered the baby beds where he could have placed the babies down on. She was coming off anesthesia and working it out of her body affected her memory. His only reason was general first time dad panic.

Blair smiled down at the baby boy while she traced her son's face with the tips of her fingers. The door opened, and her eyes widened at the sight of Nate standing behind Chuck, looking eager to help.

"Everyone's gone to get something to eat," Chuck said in apology.

She frantically tried to reach the edge of her robe to cover her breast.

"Seen it before," Nate pronounced. Chuck glared at him. Nate shook his head. "Doesn't turn me on." Chuck did not appear convinced. "She's holding your baby," Nate explained. "She's a mother," he added.

Chuck huffed.

Blair sputtered in offense. "Excuse me! What does that mean?"

Chuck held up his hand to silence Nate. "They're all turn ons for me."

Nate looked at Chuck like he had grown two heads. Then, he reminded his friend, "Obviously. That's your family."

Blair's eyes narrowed when Nate leaned down to take the baby from Blair. Blair held her son more tightly. "Wash your hands and your arms first," she instructed. She leaned forward and sniffed. "Are your clothes fresh?"

Nate dragged his feet towards the bathroom and did as Blair asked. He dried his arms, then started back out.

"Wash twice!" Chuck called out in reminder.

When finally Nate returned and held out his arms for the baby boy, Blair smiled and handed her son to him. Chuck gave their daughter to Blair, then took the boy from Nate. The baby's eyes opened. She looked up sleepily at Blair.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted.

Chuck and Nate both leaned over at the same time to see the baby's eyes. Their heads bumped together. Chuck said, "Thanks for the help, Archibald." Nate nodded. Chuck paused, waited. Then, when Nate did not leave, he continued, "Blair's got to feed the baby."

Nate cleared his throat. Chuck and Blair held up their hands over the babies' faces at the same time. "Germs," Blair explained. "They're premature."

"Right," Nate muttered, then left the room. "Okay."

"Thanks, Nate!" Blair said again.

Nate nodded, then told the two, "You know what? I think I'm going to get married too. Then I'm going to have kids."

Chuck glanced at his best friend. "Are you serious?"

"Maybe." Nate looked at the sight, of his two best friends holding one baby each.

At the answer, Chuck decided, "You're not ready."

"And you were?"

"Well, when I told you I was going to marry Blair, did I say 'maybe?'" Chuck returned.

Nate paused, then shrugged his shoulders. "I'll see you two."

When the door closed behind their friend, Chuck turned back to Blair and watched when Blair parted her robe and held up her daughter to her breast. The girl pursed her lips when she encountered the nipple. Blair shook her head. "Don't tell me you're not hungry, young woman," Blair warned. "You haven't had milk yet. Mommy's milk is good," she said.

Chuck grinned. "Is it?" He glanced down at the boy in his arms, sleeping with his mouth slightly open. "Well your brother certainly looks satisfied with it."

Blair moved the girl to find a better angle to offer her breast. "Come on, angel. Here it is. Don't be a picky eater."

The baby's girl's mouth relaxed a little, tested the nipple against her lips, but did not suckle.

"That's grade A milk," Chuck told his daughter. "Only the best in the world."

"Please, please, baby girl," Blair said softly. "You need to eat. We're not on a diet, baby." The baby girl closed her eyes and rested against Blair. Blair looked up at Chuck in worry.

Chuck turned around, then spotted the baby beds. He raised his eyebrows. "Why didn't we think of that?"

Blair worried her lower lip. Chuck walked over and placed his son in one of the wheeled beds that the nurses used to cart the babies to and from the nursery. He returned to his wife, then plucked Blair's lower lip away from her teeth.

Chuck picked up the bottle of glucose water that they had been using for the babies while they were waiting for Blair's milk. He held up the plastic nipple to the corner of the baby's lips. The girl immediately turned her mouth to it and sucked. Blair told him, "She can't always drink that. It's not healthy, Chuck."

Chuck's lips curved. With his other hand, he held his daughter's bald head then turned it back towards Blair's breast. While his daughter continued pulling on the plastic nipple, he held the bottle against Blair's breast. And then, he slowly pulled the bottle away from his daughter's mouth. When the baby sought to catch it, she latched onto Blair's nipple instead, then continued suckling.

Blair gasped at the sensation of her daughter feeding. She happily looked up at Chuck.

"I know what Waldorf women want," he said arrogantly, then winked at her. "And yes, that included Eleanor Waldorf. Now it includes the newest one."

Blair grinned, grateful to feel the suckling motion of her little girl. "You mean you know how to manipulate Waldorf women."

He nodded. "Only for their own good."

She stretched up to kiss him. "Thank you." If it were not for him, she would worry the entire night about her daughter.

Chuck said, "Can I get first dibs on naming her?"

"No games anymore?"

Chuck shook his head. "Let me name her. You can name our son," he said, remembering the frantic feeding his son had done earlier. "He's so obviously a mama's boy."

tbc


	40. Chapter 40

**Part 40**

It happened before they left the hospital. She had her babies for a full hour before the nurses came to take them back to the nursery. She disappointed herself too, because part of the hour she had fallen asleep while her bed was inclined; right in the middle of her breastfeeding session her daughter. She had started awake, afraid that she had dropped her baby.

"It's alright, Blair," his voice said, calming her immediately.

She turned her head and saw that Chuck had placed the baby girl on the wheeled in baby bed, massaging her chest as she lay sleeping beside her brother.

"What are you doing, Chuck?" she asked sleepily. "Are you trying to burp her? She's too young." And then, uncertainly she added, "And I don't think that's how you burp a baby."

Chuck shook his head, then curved his lips. "It's for apnea."

The word was familiar enough that she sat up in bed. She grabbed at her belly where the stitches were, because the sudden movement still hurt like—Well, she couldn't curse anymore. She was a mother. So she just hissed. Chuck looked torn between approaching her and continuing the motion of his hand on the baby's chest. "Can't she breathe?" she asked urgently.

"She's fine," he said. "But the doctor said this is a good exercise for preemies. It keeps them from getting respiratory distress."

At that, she relaxed. "Oh. Oh thank God! I thought she couldn't breathe."

"Are you kidding me?" he said lightly, still trying to soothe her frazzled nerves. "When you fell asleep and she couldn't get any more milk, she was crying nonstop." He nodded in reassurance. "She can get enough air."

"She was crying?" Blair repeated, dismayed. "And I didn't even wake up?"

Sometimes, when he was this in tune with her, he made her uncomfortable. It was impossible how he could possibly know everything inside her head. But he did, and she provided it when he immediately responded, "You're a great mother. But you're exhausted and your body is recovering. Falling asleep was natural, Blair."

"I could have dropped her."

"That's why I'm here."

Right. She remembered now. He was always going to be there. He promised.

So she asked, "Does it really work?"

Chuck smiled, then nodded. "And it helps that they feel you. They're cooped up in their incubators for too much of the day. I think it comforts them you touch them."

She extended her arms, then requested, "Give me the other one."

"The other one," Chuck repeated with a chuckle. "We really have to name them soon." He left the baby girl just long enough to pick up his son and walk over to his wife. He placed the baby boy beside Blair on the bed, then showed Blair the slow gentle motion that he used on their daughter. When the baby boy blinked to open his eyes, then still blindly look up, Blair sucked in her breath. And then the boy formed an O with his mouth.

"Does he want to eat?" she whispered.

"When he smells you, all he can think about is your boob," Chuck commented.

Blair bit her lip to stifle her laughter, then gingerly lifted her son up against her chest. The baby nuzzled the underside of her breast. "Okay, I think he just answered me." Blair carefully pushed down part of her gown and offered her breast to the baby. And then just as soon as the baby's lips touched her skin the sleepiness was gone. "Ow!" Blair cried out. The baby suckled furiously. "Why do you always do that, baby?" she asked. "No one's going to take away the milk."

She felt her husband's finger on her chin, then let him tip her head back. She expected him to say something, but instead found his lips suddenly on hers while carefully sandwiching the infant between them. She moaned deep in her throat. Something about Chuck's kiss, while their son was milking, brought tears in her eyes.

When Chuck lifted his head, she rasped, "What was that for?"

He shook his head. "You just look so gorgeous right now," he told her.

It was at the end of the hour that the nurses returned to take the babies back. Chuck reluctantly handed the children back to the nurses so that they could put them in their incubators. He sat down beside his wife, then traced circles on the back of her hand.

"Four hours, then we can see them again," he told her.

She nodded. If there was anyone who can count down the hours, it was him. He always knew the answers when she asked about the children. In fact, Chuck practically lived in the hospital with her. "The board must miss you," she commented when he took her hand. "We've been here for a week, Chuck." And he had been there every day. "Aren't you in trouble yet?"

"Bass Industries wouldn't just collapse without me," he reminded her. "Not the way Bart Bass built it."

After all, during their honeymoon, Bass thrived on the projects that he had managed to secure and hand over to Farrar and Jack both.

"I beg to differ," she answered. "Your investors wouldn't be there if they didn't trust you."

"I'll drop by the office for an hour or two," he promised. But since work was far away, and he was there with her, he turned the conversation back to what mattered. "Are you excited to go home?"

At that, she smiled in relief. "I'm excited not to be a patient anymore!" she answered. "But at the same time, I don't want to leave the twins here."

Chuck grinned back at her. "Who says you have to?"

Blair pursed her lips. "The pedia said they need to be in and out of their incubators for the next two weeks," she reminded him, surprised that he could forget after the almost maniacal attention he gave the twins since birth.

"Did you know that we can get incubators installed at home?" Blair looked at him as if he had become deranged. Chuck laughed softly, then said, "No, really. They're doing that now. It's home care. We can get a nurse to help us out at home the next two weeks while they're in and out. It's just like setting up any other type of home care, Blair."

"You want us to set up two incubators in the nursery so we can bring them home early?" she clarified.

She could see that hint in his eyes, of the boy who got everything he wanted as long as it cost money. And he wanted this. At least this time, she wanted this too. "I want them to get used to their room as soon as possible," he said.

"How much will that cost?" she asked. And this time, it was him who looked at her like she said something ridiculous. "I mean, they only need to be there for two weeks."

And he answered quickly, showing her that he had already thought about it. "We're going to donate the equipment back to the hospital."

Blair sighed. "This is completely out of this world."

"No, it's not," he said. "Really," he assured her. "We're not the first couple to do it. I want the babies home. I want you home."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "I can imagine the blog when Gossip Girl hears about this," she said. "She's going to talk about how completely insane this is. And then how irresponsible we are to take the babies home early. And then—"

So Chuck held up a finger to her lips. "Do you care?"

She held his gaze, then thought. Finally, she shook her head. "If it means we get to be home with the kids?"

"Yes."

Blair shook her head.

The next day, as per agreement, and more than one week since the twins were born, they made their decision. When it came down to it, the biggest decision of their married lives boiled down to two folded sheets of paper. It was required, after all. The hospital was not going to discharge two children who had more Google hits than any other children in the Upper East Side without proper, legal names. They could only refer to Baby Girl Bass and Baby Boy Bass so many times before the names became trite.

So they agreed to Chuck Bass' home care request, and to supply the nurse and the brand new incubators with one condition. Mr and Mrs Bass had to lock in the names of the babies, then ensure the hospital that the kids would go to the same hospital for their check ups and vaccinations.

Chuck had deemed it less hassle and more security, so he agreed.

Blair found it a quicker way to deal with things, and the children's pediatrician was already a staff member anyway.

Gossip Girl, when she finally got a whiff of the news, called it the Bass twins' first endorsement deal.

Blair would have been pissed off at the implication that the twins were being marketed, but Chuck reminded her that no one in the world would believe they needed the money.

She slid her folded piece of paper over to Chuck, but did not release it until he slid his paper to her.

"One. Two. Three," he counted.

They released their trade at the very same time. Blair held it close to her chest. Chuck did the same.

"No vetos," Blair stated.

He smiled, then confidently assured her, "You wouldn't want to."

She bit her lip. "You might want to veto mine. That's why I need you to agree."

Chuck's smile vanished. "If you named the kid after Archibald, I might have to call my own son by his last name." He shook his head. He started to unfold the piece of paper. Blair closed her hand over his. He looked up in surprise, then remembered what she asked. "No veto," he agreed.

Blair nodded, then nervously unfolded the paper in her hands. When she read the name, the corner of her mouth lifted.

"I wanted to give you back what I took away from you."

She opened her mouth to respond, then shook her head. Finally, she said, "You didn't take it away, Chuck. I took a chance, and I don't regret it. Not when this is what I have now."

He nodded. "You like it?"

"I do."

"Good," he told her. "Because that choice was a little selfish on my part. I wanted to call my daughter that because that's how I proved to myself how much you love me. When I got that call in Italy, and I found out what you did—"

But to her, it was not even a sacrifice. It was the most selfish thing she had done, because she wanted to give herself that time with him.

"So we have that in common at least. Because this is how I knew you loved me too."

Chuck unfolded the piece of paper, read the name, then arched his eyebrows. "This is where you knew I loved you?" Chuck frowned. "That's a little late, don't you think?"

"When we went on our second honeymoon," she confessed, "and you left the company to Jack and to the board. When you showed me I was all that mattered." She sighed. "Is it fair to label the kids with those names just because they mean something to us?"

Chuck scoffed. "We made them. They'll live with out." Then, to belie the words, he cleared his throat. "I wasn't questioning it," he said. Chuck folded the piece of paper, then wrapped one arm around her and pulled her towards him to kiss her forehead. "So it's Yale and Hampton."

"Yale Bass," she tested on her tongue. "I like it. She sounds snooty. If only she had hair, it would be perfect."

Chuck mock growled at her. "She'll grow into it." He smirked. "Hampton Bass," he repeated to himself. "Makes me picture pastel sweaters tied around his neck while he plays raquetball in the club. Or like a valedictorian. I can't decide."

Two months later, when Blair was healed enough to walk around, she met her best friend for coffee with the babies tagging along. Her phone rang. Blair answered the phone, then greeted her mother.

"Mom!" Blair cut in after a long-winded lecture from the other end of the line. "Serena had coffee. I had some hot chocolate."

And then she rolled her eyes.

"I know caffeine is not good for the babies, mom."

When she finally hung up the phone, Serena asked. "So how are you?"

Blair sighed. "Did you know how absolutely exhausting it is to be a mother?"

"I heard," Serena answered. "I am so impressed that you're taking them out on your own, sweetie."

"Well, we're meeting daddy here after he stops by the office," Blair explained.

Serena applauded in excitement. "I brought the babies gifts!" she exclaimed.

"Give me!" Blair demanded enthusiastically.

Serena dug into her large boho bag, then brought out her loot of a small stuffed brown hat-wearing bear. She thrust it towards Blair. "For Hampton."

Blair ooohed at the animal. She took it from Serena, then showed it to her son. Hampton cried at the sight. Serena blanched. Blair looked at the booth a few tables away from them. Serena was surprised when one of the young women stood up, then walked over to take the bear from Blair and placed it in the stroller, then picked up the little boy to rock him.

"You see how difficult it is?" Blair asked Serena somberly.

Serena bit her lip to stifle her smile. She then searched inside her bag again, then gave a triumphant cry when she found her gift. "This is for my favorite niece!" In Serena's hand, Blair spied an elastic headband with three pink flowers. "For Yale!"

Blair squealed, then grabbed the headband from Serena. "I've been wanting to get one, but Chuck kept saying not to. Well, as long as we tell him it's from you!"

Blair and Serena stood up and leaned over Yale's stroller. Blair pouted as she brushed her fingers on Yale's now wispy soft brown hair. "I think she'll have curly hair. Don't you think so?" Blair whispered, careful not to wake up her daughter. Carefully, she reached to place the headband around Yale's head. "Oh!" she gasped. "S, look! She's so pretty."

"Oh, B, she is!"

Blair wrapped her arms around Serena. Yale's nanny stood up from the booth, but Blair motioned for her to sit down. She then glanced at Hampton and his nanny, then walked over to her son to take him in her arms. The boy's face was red with anger. "Bad Brown Bear," she murmured to her son.

"Hampton, sweetie," Serena said soothingly, "that bear is very famous. It's the Brown mascot."

Blair glared at the bear now. "That's why. My son doesn't want to go to Brown."

Hampton sniffled, then nuzzled his mouth against Blair's breast.

Serena's voice dropped. "B, I don't think it's the bear. I think he's hungry."

Blair flushed. "I'm not going to breastfeed here," she said. She turned to Hampton's nanny, then instructed, "Can you call for the limo? Chuck's almost here anyway."

Blair hummed to her baby while they waited for the car to drive around. In about ten minutes, Blair saw Chuck enter the coffeehouse. She broke into a big smile. Chuck grinned at her, with the grin that he reserved only for her. When he saw Serena, he nodded in greeting. "Visiting home this weekend, sis?" he asked. "I'm surprised you're not gallivanting around Europe."

"I wanted to see the kids," Serena told him.

Chuck leaned and kissed Blair's cheek, then dropped a kiss on Hampton's nose. "He's angry," he observed, then concluded, "He's hungry." Then, to complete his greetings, he bent to kiss Yale. Before he did, he stopped. He looked up at Blair, who blinked back at him innocently enough. Chuck's eyes narrowed at Serena. He gentle plucked the headband off his daughter's head, then dangled it in front of his stepsister. "Is this yours?"

"It's pretty!" Serena protested.

Chuck tossed the headband towards Serena. Serena caught the headband. Chuck arched an eyebrow at his wife. "You had something to do with this too."

"Well," Blair huffed, "it _is _pretty."

tbc

I need to sleep.


	41. Chapter 41

**Part 41**

Chuck shook his head, then picked up Yale from her stroller. "My daughter doesn't need a headband to look like a girl," he stated. He narrowed his eyes at his wife, then tried to stifle a grin. "I know your game. She's pretty enough."

Blair sighed. "But Chuck!" Her voice fell. "If someone takes a picture of her, Gossip Girl will have a field day."

Chuck snorted. "With Ben and Jerry around," he said, referring to her bodyguards, "no one can come close enough to take a picture."

Blair curled her lips. "Are you sure about that?"

And his stepsister reminded him, "Someone took my picture when I got tipsy and topless in the Vanderbilt estate pool. You know how isolate that was."

"Fine," Chuck said. "So the paps take pictures. The only thing I care about is that they don't get near the kids."

Blair settled his son in her arms. "So you're willing to have them post pictures of the babies, then say that Hampton looks more like a girl than Yale?"

Chuck eyed his son—a mama's boy who always only calmed with his mother, gifted with a thicker head of hair than his sister.

He looked down at the girl in his arms. Love her like he did, he had to admit that Blair had a point. Their features were so alike that with Yale's saddening lack of hair, she did look like the boy between the two.

With Hampton wearing a purple onesie from Lily, even Yale's yellow frogsuit could be deceiving.

"That's it. Hampton's going to start wearing blue." And then he looked down at his daughter—pretty and silent and innocent to the judgment of the world. "That should work."

"And the headband?" Serena piped in, dangling the headback back towards her stepbrother.

Chuck took it from her. Blair sucked in her breath in triumph. He tested the elasticity of the headband, then handed it back to Serena. "That's a choking hazard. No."

Serena shrugged her shoulders at Blair, then stood up to excuse herself. "I'll see you to two at dinner," she said to her best friend.

When they were alone, Chuck placed Yale back in the stroller. "Wait for me in the limo," he told Blair. "I'll just grab some coffee to go."

She nodded, then made her way to the car with the nannies pushing the babies out the coffeeshop. It was an effort to pack everything up. The bodyguards assisted with folding the strollers and putting them in the trunk. Blair waited outside the limo for her husband.

She focused on the doors of the coffeeshop. When they opened and Chuck strode outside, she gave a welcoming smile.

Chuck finally let his smirk grow as he walked towards her.

His gaze moved to the a point over her shoulder. Blair frowned, then turned around and saw Jack approaching her. Her heart pounded. She straightened, only to feel Chuck's hand firmly grip her elbow. Chuck walked past her, then stopped Jack a few feet away from Blair.

"I thought we agreed that you were going to stay away from my family," Chuck said.

Jack scowled. "You cheated me."

"Aren't you the head of my division, Jack? You have enough shares in Bass that you can render any of Lily's votes pointless." Chuck locked his jaw. "That's what you asked for."

"Your investors are pulling out," Jack lashed out. "Do you know what that means? For the past eight minutes Bass fell by twenty percent in the stock."

Twenty percent. And like everything else this would be a steady decline. This was his children's future that was at stake. Chuck demanded, "What did you do, Jack?"

"Nothing," Jack responded. "And none of the other board members will support me. They are demanding that you take back your post."

Chuck shook his head. He glanced at Blair. "I had no part in that."

"Did you tell all your investors to pull out so you can wrest the company back?"

"Why on Earth, Jack," Chuck said softly, "would I sabotage my own money?"

"Then who's got as much sway with the investors?" Jack demanded. "Why the hell are they pulling out? Why is the board trying to make me fail?"

Blair held onto the door of the limo, unconsciously shielding the children. "Maybe because you never deserved it in the first place."

Jack glared at her in disbelief. "You did this?" He stepped forward. The bodyguards moved forward but Blair stayed them with a gesture.

Chuck grabbed Jack's arm. He turned to Blair in confusion. "Did you?" Then even more lost, he inquired, "How?"

"I never told any of them to turn their backs on you," she stated to Jack. "But I did bring my children over to see where daddy works," Blair admitted. "And if I happened to let them know what you did to take over the company, then it was casual conversation."

"You threw a fucking pity party and you used your kids as props!" Jack spat.

"They were very sympathetic."

Jack stalked towards her. Chuck shook his head. "I held up my end of the bargain. It's not my fault if you can't manage perception. You don't get anywhere near my family."

"The board and the investors will never support you now, Jack. They saw how hard we worked. Sell me back the stock you got Chuck to hand over to you last month. Make a hefty profit."

"I can still hold my stock even without the board's support."

"The investors are pulling out," Chuck said. "If you're right, and the stock price of Bass Industries is in steady decline, then it's not going to stabilize until you leave."

"You're ruining your own company."

She smiled. "I've got money. In fact, it was my stock that Chuck sold to you. He bought it from me at market value last month. You've lost four hundred million in forty days, Jack."

"Sell it back to you."

She checked her phone. Her eyebrows rose at the rapid dive. "Well, it's worth eighty million now."

"What?" Jack hissed.

"No one has faith in you. Or maybe they're just loyal to Chuck," she said. She sighed. "Because I just had babies, I'll be nice to you," Blair told him. "I'll pay you a hundred and fifty percent of the current value."

"A hundred twenty million. I still lose two eighty."

Chuck did not know the game, but still he slid easily into what Blair had built. "Be grateful it's not three twenty."

"Sell it back to me now, Jack. Last chance. Liquidate before you lose everything."

Jack's phone rang. He held it up to his ear, then spoke in clipped responses and threw snapping questions at the caller. He then held up his phone and checked the message. "Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit. Fuck!" he bit out.

"I'll thank you not to swear in front of my children, Jack," Chuck managed.

Jack glared at him as if Chuck had grown two heads. "The company is fucking bleeding billions, asshole," he gritted out.

Chuck sucked in a deep breath. "Don't swear in front of the kids."

"Fine," Jack snapped. He turned to Blair. "You can have your stocks. And buy me out. I don't want any more part of this."

Blair's lips curved. "I only promised a hundred fifty percent for the stock you got from us. Your initial stock has to be bought at current value."

Chuck saw the mottled redness of his uncle's face.

"I'm not going to pay you fifty percent more for a sinking ship," she informed him. And then, she grinned. "I'm not a silly little girl." And then, she decided, "If you really need to sell the rest, I'll buy them at eighty percent of the market value."

"That's ridiculous!"

The babies cried inside the limo. Blair leaned and glanced inside. Then, she turned to Jack, "We're leaving. The kids are cranky, and so am I. Eighty's my last offer." When Jack did not respond, Blair shrugged. She started to climb into the limo.

Finally, Jack burst out, "Ninety."

Chuck watched the haggling in fascination.

"Eighty two and you never show your face to me again."

And then Chuck's face cleared. Blair could have paid Jack a two hundred percent of the current value, with the way the stock had fallen, and still have gotten a bargain. It was only then that he realized that this was his wife's way of taking her own revenge against his uncle.

He inhaled, then observed.

"This is my city, Blair," Jack complained.

"Then no deal." Blair reached to close the door.

"Wait. Fine. Eighty two percent."

"And we never see you in New York again."

"Yes!"

Blair nodded, then smiled coolly. "I'll shake on it, if I didn't have to hold my babies afterwards. We don't have any disinfectant in the car." She leaned out towards Jack. "Never blackmail us again. I may never have cared about the company before. It used to be Bart's, but it's going to my children. And I'm protective of their possessions."

Jack scowled. Chuck added, "We have your accountant's contact information. We'll take care of it, Jack."

Chuck entered the limo, then shut the door. He looked down at his wife, who was now leaning over and playing with Yale's mitten. He placed a hand on her back, felt her tremor. "So this was the plan?" he asked. "This is why you wanted to take the babies out by yourself?"

She turned to him and smiled uneasily. "It had to be done, Chuck."

"Did you sabotage the company?" he asked softly.

"The moment we transfer the money over to Jack, and we get his documents signed, your company publicist will announce that you've taken over—like Michael Dell took over from Rollins when Dell was getting flushed down the toilet. Classic move, Bass. And it salvaged the company," Blair told him.

It was an accepted move, and the stock market respected that. His loss and a general distrust of Jack were why the investors left. The board wanted Chuck a lot more than Jack. With the classic maneuver leaked to the press, the stock prices would shoot up past the point it had been before the massive pullout.

"So once again, I'll be fully at the helm."

That was what had almost ruined them, had sent Blair down the path to her eating disorder.

"Your investors' decision to pull out was their own. Chuck, they want you. And the board knows now how capable you are."

He cupped her face. "You're the most important person in my life," he promised.

She covered his hands with hers. She nodded. "I know." With a grin, she asked, "Why do you think I planned this all out with dad?"

He was impressed. It showed in his eyes. "Whoever said you needed to go to business school to be this good?"

"I'm not just a housewife," she told him. "I've been doing this since junior high."

"As it happens, Mrs Bass, there is a position that recently opened in my company."

"I accept," she told him. "But I'd like to file for maternity leave."

"Of course," he said. "I shudder in fear thinking about how your contract negotiation is going to go."

She kissed his lips, then promised, "Wait two hours until after the announcement that you're taking over Bass again. You'll see the impact. And then you will be begging me to get a pay hike."

"Then I'm going to have to offer you something on the side, Mrs Bass," he said seductively. "I don't want people looking at your payslip and finding out how gigantic I'm willing to pay you. The union will protest."

She grinned, then pulled back. The nannies were in the limo with them, but they were a little farther away, so she said in a whisper, "What else do you have to offer me, Mr Bass?"

They were close to the house, and she knew how bad of an idea it was to flirt with him then. They both knew she had a few more months left before she could completely follow through.

But she was in a celebrating mood. There were other ways to please him anyway.

Chuck leaned over and nipped a little at her earlobe. "I have tons of newly discovered talents ready for you, Mrs Bass. Just say the word."

"So you're going to work off the difference?" Her hand crept to the crotch of his pants. She missed this. So much. She could tell he missed it too.

"I'd be more than willing to."

His breathing grew shallow. As they drew closer to their building, Blair felt him grow harder. "Then we have a bargain."

Chuck almost leapt out of the limo, clutching her hand. He turned to the nannies, checking that the children would be brought up to their place. He released a sigh of relief when Dorota exited the building and then went over to the limo.

"I make sure babies okay, Mr Chuck. You go on now."

Chuck dropped Blair hand, then hugged Dorota. "Thank you. Thank you."

Blair giggled at Dorota's blush. She allowed Chuck to pull her along. "You've got to walk slower, Chuck," she reminded him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

The doorman held the door open. Chuck glanced back and saw Dorota and the bodyguards overseeing the nannies as they carried the children out of the limo.

"Lyn?" he heard Blair gasp. "What are you doing here?"

Blair pulled her hand out of his grip, then walked forward.

Chuck turned, then saw Blair approach the stranger.

"Chuck," Blair said excitedly, "this is my friend from the Hamptons. Remember? I told you about her."

Chuck swallowed painfully.

The woman smiled warmly at him, then said, "Charles."

"Stay away," he bit out. "Stay away from us."

There was a flicker of hurt on Lyn's face. Chuck heard the noise as the nannies wheeled in the twins, with Dorota following close behind them. Lyn's face brightened. "Are these your children, Charles?"

Chuck looked at Dorota, then said in his clipped command, "Bring the twins upstairs. Now."

With no questions asked, Dorota hurried the nannies to the elevator.

Tbc

Finaaaalllllyyyy. I am almost done. Phew. This story is freakishly long.


	42. Chapter 42

**Part 42**

She waited until the elevators doors closed after the children before she turned to her husband. Chuck held himself stiffly. Within minutes he had erected a wall around him, almost impenetrable, almost indestructible. Almost. But she was Blair, and she stepped close, placed her hand on his arm and said gently, "Chuck, what is it?"

Despite his steady voice, she felt him tremble under her hand. But he was commanding when he turned to the kindly woman she had known so well, liked so much, and said, "Get out of the building."

Blair did not turn her gaze to Lyn. But she remembered Lyn's warm eyes from her desperate and lonely days in the Hamptons. Blair could imagine how Lyn's face would look when hurt. The pain was evident in the older woman's words. "Charles, I wish you would let me explain."

And his reply was still, "Get out."

He turned his back to the door, shielded the other woman from her eyes. She heard the shuffle, the quiet murmured goodbye from the doorman—professional even in the most difficult situation.

"I don't want you to ever see that woman again."

She looked up at him, at the strong, tight set of his jaw, at the tortured corners of his eyes. "Alright," she immediately agreed. At this point, argument was useless. And she had no need for one anyway. "Who is she?"

As far as she knew, Lyn was a friendly woman who was wonderful company in the weeks she was in the Hamptons. The older woman had been friendly; she had been open. Best of all, she had been on hand to give her advise about the pregnancy. It was invaluable when she had been away from her mother and Lily.

But none of that mattered. When it came down to it, even if his reasons were ridiculous, she would stay away. They were not children, after all.

"That woman raised me until I was six years old."

The words did not make sense. "She was your—nanny?"

His lips thinned. "My governess—my nurse—my nanny—my tutor—She was everything my dad could think of to replace my mother."

The words, though harmless, worried her more. Dorota had been every one of those to her since she was a child. And even now she trusted Dorota, loved her, without comparison. Instead of protesting his feelings, she held his hand and pulled him with her to the elevator. While they waited, she linked their arms and rested her forehead on his arm.

"She's the reason my mother's dead," he said as the doors opened.

Blair turned to him. Beside them, the elevator doors closed on the empty cab. Even then, she could remember the fear in his eyes when she had been pregnant, recalled the several nights he had been restless and sleepless. All because of his mother's death.

"Your mother died giving birth to you." He did not answer. He reached down for the call button and the elevator doors opened. They stepped in, waited for the doors to close in front of them. Alone inside while the elevator ascended, they were quiet. But the stiff way he held himself remained. Even while she held onto him he did not relax his stance. She said softly, "Right?"

"Dr Johnson has a pristine record, Blair. That's the only reason I let her operate on you," he shared.

"What does that have to do—" And then she caught herself. "Oh."

"Zero mortality. If she had a resume ready, I'm sure she'd put it there."

This time, even when the doors opened and they stepped out and into their plush apartment, she did not ask him to continue. He gently pulled away from her, then walked towards the twins' rooms. Blair followed close behind him. The maids inside the room looked up at their arrival. The twins were awake, sitting on their nannies' laps while the young women held up little musical toys up, gently waving them and testing the way the children's attention followed the colorful toys.

It was one of the activities that Chuck and Blair had planned out for the twins' day. Dorota made sure the list was followed to the last minute.

Blair nodded at Dorota, who in turn understood the wordless command. At the quiet gesture from their informal supervisor, the nannies rose from their seats and placed the children in their respective cribs. The three left the room.

"Take them down to have coffee or something," Blair whispered when Dorota passed by her. "Thank you."

"You call anytime, Miss Blair," Dorota answered.

Blair watched quietly as Chuck walked over to his son's crib and looked down at the socked, shoeless feet waving up in an effort to kick one of the cushioned ponies hanging from above him. When Hampton's toe tapped the corner, the little sound machine inside the pony played a recorded classical tempo. Hampton gave his father a toothless grin. If Blair did not know better, she would think it was pride instead of gas.

Chuck turned to her. "Did you see that? He's showing off."

And she agreed. "He is. Such an overachiever."

Chuck reached down to play with Hampton's hair, then walked across the room to the other crib. This one was the crib that Nate had given them in his untrained desire to give Blair what she always wanted. Tasteless and clueless choice, Chuck had decided. But he did admit, Yale looked every inch a princess in that crib.

He pictured a blonde baby lying there, who had Blair's lips, and her eyes, and her nose.

Try as he might, the image did not exist in his brain. His imagination could not even conceive it.

Until he paused, thought back, then shook his head. It was when he was insecure, when he was bothered, when he battled his own demons, that he piled his anger at the closest person he could hurt. And it was a conscious decision to unburden himself, and not to dump the anger on those he cared about.

"Chuck—" she said softly.

Whenever he heard her voice, it always sounded like it came from somewhere bright, reaching into his world whenever he started to shut himself off from the world.

He looked at her, saw her with their son now.

And his walls fell away before he could even erect them. The nonexistent Nate, work that could take his time, a past that she had nothing to do about—any reason he could think of, he could invent, just so he could deal with his demons by himself—all fell away.

"They assured me no one has ever died on Johnson's table. That's why I let her touch you again," he explained. He had allowed her to assume for the past two months that it had been because of the emergency, because she needed the surgery right then. Like she had allowed him to assume that she was being solely a mother taking of the children when she had been working under the table to knock Jack out of the company. They had both made decisions to make it all easy for the other one.

But she had been fully capable of taking revenge on Jack all by herself.

Chuck recognized that he could not win this battle by himself.

"Your mother—"

"I had my PIs pull my mom's records," he confessed. "The moment they said that, I walked away from that operating room." It was not a twinge of guilt. It was a drum full of hot, boiling, guilt that washed over him admitting that. "I called every last number in my book to figure out what happened."

She took a deep breath, held on to Hampton just a little too tightly.

"She's dead," he assured her. "My mother's dead, but it didn't happen when she gave birth."

"Your father told you—" Blair started.

"My father lied," Chuck bit out. "It's a Bass trait. At least when it came to my mother, my dad and I were the same. We both didn't want to admit we killed her, so we made up such grand stories, don't you think? I told everyone she died in a plane crash. And he told me she died giving birth."

"Your dad didn't kill your mother," she stated. Even if she knew Bart, all his deficiencies as a father, all his shortcomings as a husband, all his ruthless actions as a businessman, she saw enough of the man who would have been her father-in-law to recognize the quiet misery that hid behind cold eyes when any old friend would mention the woman in that odd society party.

"No, he didn't," Chuck answered. "But he might as well have."

The words sounded obscene to her. And try as she might she could not help the cry that erupted, "No, Chuck!"

It was a mistake. She realized it too late. The walls that had fallen away formed and climbed until it was high up between them. He drew back within himself. Chuck turned his back on her and leaned down to pick Yale up from the crib. Like he was fond of doing, Chuck buried his nose into the crook of Yale's neck.

And he held their daughter while she held their son. The invisible but very apparent divide stood between them. Blair stepped forward. Chuck straightened, pulled back almost imperceptibly. If she did not love him so much, if she had not been tuned to his very breath, she would not have noticed the change.

This was not acceptable.

"Tell me what happened," she said. "Tell me what they told you."

His jaw tightened at the plea.

"Whatever happened to your father and your mother, however this all involves Lyn—all that doesn't affect what we are."

Maybe it was true, how children from their very conception were tied to their parents by bonds that were beyond physical. Because right then, even after happily kicking at his toys, Hampton let out a wail. He screamed in her arms, and jerked Chuck out of his own trance. He started forward in concern, looked at the red face and fretted over the frenzy of crying that seemed to prevent the baby from breathing.

Blair held Hampton to her while the child screamed into her ear. She shook and cuddled, danced and pleaded with the baby to calm down. "It's okay, sweetheart," she murmured.

And their son screamed and choked, blubbering and turning blue.

"Maybe he's hungry," came Chuck's panicked outburst.

Hampton was such an easy child that the unstoppable crying scared her, sending her into a mass as tremors as her heart pounded in her chest. She nodded jerkily, then tried to position the baby in her arms. And she noticed for the first time that her limbs would not cooperate with her. Her child was screaming, breathless, loud. Her arms trembled uncontrollably. Her knees knocked together almost.

She could feel the flush climb into her cheeks. The edges of her vision blurred.

Oh my God.

"Chuck," she said. Firmly. In a voice she had not used before. Urgent, but calm. "He's not hungry," she decided.

"He only cries when he's hungry," Chuck said.

"Take him," she said breathlessly. Blair looked up at her husband. His brows drew together in confusion. "Now, Chuck."

His face cleared, just as concern swept in. Wordlessly, he took Hampton from her just in time. Blair stumbled blindly towards one of the seats that the nannies vacated, then collapsed heavily on it. Chuck stepped forward while clutching Hampton.

"Blair," he said uncertainly.

She met his eyes with her own tear-filled ones. She shook her head.

And then he placed his free hand on her cheek, his gaze intent. There was panic, but he managed it enough now. And sometimes she thought it was unfair that he had to. "Do you need a doctor?"

She felt the first tear fall, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "This isn't how I plan to end fights. We're better than this."

"Take a pill," he suggested. His shoulders noticeably relaxed. The baby in his sons still mewled, but was calm enough that he could draw breaths while sobbing. "I'll let you throw a shoe at me later."

She smiled, because maybe they were really better. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. We worried him."

She could tell that Hampton was better then. The crying turned to a few hiccups. The red face was now back to a healthy flush of pink. Of course, the child's thick brows were still furrowed, like Chuck's.

Chuck placed an apologetic kiss on her temple. "I'm angry," he said. "But not at you. I'm sorry."

It had never happened since the twins were born, but it was not like they did not expect it. The medications managed the lifelong scar she had made on her body. But the medications did not remove it, did not erase the fact that the damage had been done after years of abusing herself. It was bound to happen sooner or later—distress over her conversation with Chuck alone did not cause it. She had traveled out for the first time, and the wound on her belly throbbed a little from the exercise producing a steady dull pain her body needed to manage. Including the adrenaline that shot into her entire body at at the thought that her son was choking and hurting, her heart had gone into overdrive.

He continued, his face close to hers, speaking into her ear. "You're right, Blair. They don't change us."

And she turned her face, just a little, so that she could kiss his cheek. Because she forgave him, because there was nothing to forgive.

She reached for the baby, but drew her arms away when she saw her own hand still trembling. Chuck straightened, then placed Hampton back in his crib. He left the room then returned moments later and opened his hand. There was an orange oval pill sitting beside a pink round one. Underneath the pink pill peeked a tiny shiny white tablet. She picked up the medicines and took then. He handed her the glass of water, which she took to down them.

And then his mouth closed over her wet lips. Blair closed her eyes to savor the way his lips devoured hers—smoothly and roughly at the same time.

And she missed him suddenly, missed his body over hers, covering her, warm and hot and almost suffocating when he pushed inside her. She missed clinging to him, missed feeling him wet and sloppy and adept to the point that she wanted to melt.

It was an experiment. It was almost ginger the way she did it. They were in the nursery, with two babies very much awake in their own cribs. Blair wrapped her arms around his neck and thrust her tongue inside his mouth.

He hesitated, and she plunged, clung to him like she wanted to hang from him forever.

Her hips rose from the seat.

"Chuck," she gasped when their lips parted, "I want—"

"We can't," he said softly, agonizingly. "Not yet."

And she pulled, sending him toppling to his knees in front of her. She parted her legs to make room. His nostrils flared and he rested his palm on her belly, just above where her wound healed. He pressed gently, and she gasped and jerked away.

She almost sobbed aloud, "I need you."

Chuck took a deep breath, then raised himself up to capture her mouth. "Where are the maids?"

"I sent them out," she answered.

Chuck nodded, then returned to her mouth, then trailed hot, wet, familiar, tear-inducing kisses from the corner of her lips all the way to the pulse point behind her ear. Her heart raced for an entirely different reason. She had not cleared this with any of the doctors, but if this was the way to die…

This was the absolute best way to die, she thought, when she felt his warm hands moving to her calves, massaging their way up and capturing her knees. Chuck pushed up the skirt of her dress. He raised his face from hers, then smiled.

Blair's eyes met his. "Nothing changes us," she told him. And she referred to the twins, to whatever his discovery was regarding his parents, the illness that stayed with her from a disease she had battled and won over.

"Absolutely nothing," he replied.

Chuck's hands grasped her thighs. Blair caught her breath when he pulled, when suddenly she slid down her seat and her thighs were resting on his shoulders. And then his nose teased the corner of her panties. He kissed the inside of her thigh. She let out a moan. Blair's fingers buried in his hair.

"Chuck—" she breathed.

He smiled against the crotch of her panties, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

She threw her head back. He made a humming sound. The vibration made her cry out. "I love you," she said out loud.

And again, the infuriating smirk. She could feel it on her—his smirk. And she was going insane. She thrust up her hips. His mouth moved, on her. And then he was pushing aside her panties. She felt his tongue teasing her lips down there. He thrust inside, and Blair squeezed her eyes tightly shut. His hands rested under her ass as she lifted her to bury his mouth deeper, explore more.

It had been long, far too long. She pushed up and sought her release, and he was generous enough to give it to her. In the bedroom, in the bathtub, in the limo, in his office, on the floor of their living room. In the dressing room of her mother's boutique.

They had done it everywhere before the twins.

And she realized exactly what she missed.

When she sat panting on the chair, and he finally lifted his head and smirked at her with his lips gleaming of her, she added—In the twins' nursery.

"How was it?" he asked.

Blair giggled. Giggled, like a child again. "Not what I expected," she answered.

"We can't have that for another few months. Your doctor will kill me if we rip your stitches." He paused, then grinned. "And knowing us, we'll rip them."

She sighed, then said, "And I might get pregnant again."

His smirk vanished. Chuck shook his head. "No more kids, Blair. These two almost killed you."

"Chuck, we're not stopping at two, you know. You want a big family." The bigger, the better. He had wanted a family for too long to be satisfied with only the four of them. "I'll be fine. The next one will be a scheduled c-section. Dr Johnson and I discussed it."

He straightened, then stood up. She still lay back in her chair like a sated cat. She reached for his hand and pulled him down. When they kissed, she could still taste the odd, familiar taste of herself on his mouth. She felt the heavy weight in her breasts, then looked down to find that her milk had seeped through the maternity bra and now stained the front of her dress.

Blair flushed.

He whispered, "You are so hot these days."

And his effort did not go unnoticed. She was merry when she answered, "I'm always hot." And then, she cupped his face with both her hands. "Chuck, tell me what happened. I don't need to know, but you need to share it with someone. And I'm your wife. Please."

He slowly nodded. Chuck helped her up, then checked on both the babies calmly lying down and waving and kicking at the toys that hung over their crib. He checked the baby monitors, then walked with her to the other room. He helped her pull up her stained dress.

"Lyn was hired just before my mom gave birth," he related.

Chuck returned to her with fresh undergarments. Chuck unhooked the clasps of her bra, then took the discarded bra with him to the hamper. When he returned, she was wearing her dress again.

"My mother was fine, and then she had me. The PI found medical records of my mother. She was under extreme post partum depression, Blair."

"It happens," she answered. For her background, with the insecurity and abandonment issues she harbored, she was surprised she was not depressed then. Any shrink would have figured she was a primes candidate for post partum depression as well.

"Bart Bass was Bart Bass. Even when he was in love."

And the pieces fell together. Blair reached for Chuck's hand, then kissed it.

"A Bass is a fucking Bass."

"Not you," she said.

At that point, he was in a world of his own. Once again. So she pulled him with her to their bed and sat him down. She settled beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"The last therapy session she had was recorded," Chuck narrated, staring off into space, towards the brown cabinet in the corner. She turned her face to drop a kiss on her shoulder. He had been carrying this for weeks. While she was busy scheming against Jack, concerned about putting on a show to get sympathy from the investors and the board, Chuck had been finding all this out. And she never noticed. "She said I was quiet. She said to the shrink, 'Chuck is always so quiet, like he always has a secret.'" He took a shuddering breath. Blair felt the tears crowd her eyes. She pressed her eyes to the shoulder of his shirt, because the cloth would dry them and maybe he would not have to see. "She said, 'Everyone has a secret in the house.' Blair, she wished everyone would just keep the secret."

But they did not. They could not. Blair found out in Chuck's emotionless narration how his mother took a wrong turn in the large house and stumbled upon his father and the nanny.

"He kept her. Even after my mother killed herself, he kept her around, Blair. Because that woman loved me. It's sick. Thinking about it makes me sick," he spat out.

She held onto his hand tightly.

Because of the possibility that his mother would have done it either way. They never knew the woman, saw only pictures that showed a regal, beautiful, lonely face.

Because they only had one point of view, and not Bart's. And every time Bart spoke of his wife, the love had been apparent, at least according to Chuck.

"I would never—" he choked, cut himself off. "Never—"

"I know." And she would not say anything she just thought, not now. She would at least say, "That's not you." And then, lightly, she forced, because it killed her to be light when the entire narration threatened to reduce her to a puddle of tears, "And if you do, I'd shoot you before I shoot me."

And he recognized the effort for what it was. "Don't come near her. Don't let her near the children," he said. "I don't know why dad finally got rid of her when I was six. But I know she's insane."

Blair nodded. "I won't," she promised. She lifted her head, then met his eyes. He was scared, and he was agonized with the remembrance. "I love you," she breathed into his ear. "Always you, Mr Bass." Blair closed her eyes and pressed her lips on his. "So no more insulting remarks about Bass men. My son is a Bass man, you know."

tbc


	43. Chapter 43

**Part 43**

It was like there had been no life before this, nothing important, nothing memorable.

At eight months, her daughter started crawling while her son could still barely roll over on the colorful, interactive mat that Nate brought home during sem break. Hampton had been so delighted with the embossed, velvety texture of the bees on the mat that when Chuck saw his son's reaction, he had the nursery redesigned with the best and most up to date equipment for children.

Boys, she thought, tended to turn everything into a competition, and saw a game where one did not exist. CEO of a multibillion dollar enterprise or not, responsible father of two as he might be, Mr Bass turned into a twenty year old whose girl's ex had one-upped him, and retaliated like so.

It was ridiculous, because Nate had discovered that Chuck got riled and very quickly when Nate brought home gifts for the children or for Blair. She had cautioned Nate about it, but Nate found it amusing to see what extremes Chuck would reach in order to prove—unneccessarily—to his family that Chuck still provided the best and gave more than the ex.

The amusement stopped, of course, when she found out that to outfit the twins' nursery and update the equipment, Chuck had hired the firm of the decorator he had once upon a time flirted with.

"You missed Tuscany for that woman!" she had thrown at him.

In the middle of the project he had called off the renovation, paid the firm in full and hired another group to go back to the drawing board.

"It completely slipped my mind," he said by way of apology. "Honestly, Blair," he said, in his soothing voice. "I don't remember anyone but you."

By the time the twins celebrated their first birthday, Hampton started pulling himself up on his chubby feet while his sister toddled around chasing her nannies and throwing herself at Chuck's legs. Yale's hair now curled in little rings on her head, which Blair took as a gift for herself. Their birthday had been turned into a benefit, which Blair had become an expert at organizing.

A month later there had been an earthquake at one of the construction sites of the expanded mall project—and Blair only then realized just how long it took to complete what they had signed up for—and Chuck flew over to assess the damage firsthand.

The memories of her life before her family were vague at best. The moments she remembered most now started and ended with Chuck and the children. Monthly celebrations of the day that Yale and Hampton were born, the days—two of them—that she married Chuck, the look on his face when he proposed to her inside the elevator, the night when she stepped into their place and found that the children were gone and the entire place was lit with candles.

"This was what the first night of the honeymoon was supposed to be like," he had told her when he took her hand and led her inside to the rose petal-covered bed.

When she remembered, she had said, "When it seemed like Cupid got diarrhea and spewed romance all over the suite."

It was the night right after the doctor had informed them that she was healed enough to start having sex again. She had been waiting impatiently for the day, and it seemed so had he. But even in her throbbing excitement, while caught up in his open-mouthed hungry kiss, she gasped, "Where did you send the kids?"

"To Lily," he breathed against her cheek.

And she had relaxed and thrown herself back into the kiss.

Blair Waldorf-Bass was a mother and a wife. On his first night away from her he had called her and told her about the activities lined up for his day. It was a day that included a study of the damage, the implications to the project milestones and the most shattering of all—he had scheduled to meet with the family of the eight casualties who had been working under a column that collapsed during the quake.

"It would be a miracle if they don't condemn the site at all," he had said.

She clutched the phone to her ear tightly and listened, knowing that to him the fact that she was on the other line listening was more than enough.

It was a loss of millions, awful press and paperwork upon paperwork that he faced. And he still came in person. Most of all, she knew, he dreaded meeting the families.

"One of them had seven children," he said abruptly.

Gently, she responded, neutrally—"That's a lot of kids."

"Manuel."

She waited, and when he did not continue, she said, "Manuel is the one who had seven children."

"And Jorge had a son who is just starting to walk."

Just like his twins. She listened to the lilt of his voice, to the rise, to the fall, to the way his breath sharpened. "Chuck, do you want me to fly over?"

"I want you to stay with the twins," he said tiredly, and she promised to herself never to give him a difficult time whenever he took Nate's bait.

"Chuck," she said into the phone, "I wish I were there with you."

"No. I feel better knowing you aren't here," he told her.

And she knew him enough to realize what he meant.

If that was his hell, hers arrived to deal with the morning after. She had fallen asleep with the phone against her ear. She was tempted to call him, to tell him she missed him, and she fought against the urge. First trip away and he was dealing with far more than the indescribable emptiness she felt the moment she opened her eyes and saw the fresh, unused pillow beside her.

Blair got up almost reluctantly from the bed. Yale had had a restless two nights because of a cough, and she needed that Yale was calm after she was given her drops. That way, she would not vomit up her milk. She drew her bedrobe from the foot of the bed and walked barefoot to the twins' room. When she was within hearing distance she could hear the echoing sound of both her children crying.

It was a like a virus, she thought. Once Yale started to cry, so did Hampton and vice versa. One of these days she would sit down with Chuck and talk to him about the benefits of giving the children separate bedrooms. She had introduced the idea once, but he had been adamant about splitting up the children so early.

"Who knows what kind of benefit it would have given us if we shared rooms with siblings," he pointed out.

When Blair entered the room, the nanny had an almost guilty look on her face. Dorota stood behind her still wearing her pajamas, looking worried but in charge.

"What's happening?"

"Miss Blair," Dorota started, "we should take the twins to hospital."

They were the words that would have frozen her, and Blair contained herself. She felt the rapid, heavy thud of her heart. Fresh from her sleep, she would not have been ready for the terrifying words. Instead of asking, she rushed to Yale who was crying in her nanny's arms. Her daughter was red from distress. The moment she touched Yale, she felt the heat on her daughter's skin. Blair reached up to check her forehead, Blair's breath hitched at the sight of a red rash hidden by the curls. She hummed at the child to soothe her, then saw the creeping rash had already reached her daughter's neck.

She immediately turned to Hampton's nanny, careful to stay away in case the virus had miraculously not infected her other child. "Check him for a rash."

To Dorota, she instructed, "Get my pills and the phone on the bed."

This was adrenaline. For the moment, she rejoiced at the thrumming energy that filled her body. Within minutes she had taken her medicine to start her day, and she was calling the pediatrician.

"Check their temperature, then put some water in a few bottles."

As it turned out, Hampton was running a fever as well. The nanny advised her that there was no rash. Blair handed Yale to her nanny and walked over. When she unbuttoned Hampton's onesie she saw the rash spreading over the baby's chest.

"They have measles," she bit out. "Pack the children's overnight bags." Blair needed to get as much done before she crashed. Adrenaline could only take her so far, and she needed to make sure the twins were safe within medical attention by the time the energy was gone.

"Miss Blair, should I call Mr Chuck?" Dorota asked.

She answered while the nannies packed, "Call the limo." Over time, in the entire time—more than a year—since she had known about her condition, she accepted her own limitations. She instructed, "Call Lily. Call my mom. Let them know we're on our way to the hospital."

And then, while Dorota dialed, Blair held up her hand. "Wait. Lily is in a gallery opening in Hollywood and my mom is in Milan."

"It's okay, Miss Blair. I leave them voicemail."

Blair nodded blearily. She felt Dorota's hand close around hers as they made their way to the elevator with the crying kids. "We should have known. They were scheduled for the vaccine this month," she whispered.

"Now, now, Miss Blair," Dorota comforted her, running a hand up and down her back. "Lots of kids get sick. They are going to be fine. Children are really strong." And then, when they settled into the limo, Dorota asked, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she answered, surprising herself. For all the care that Chuck had taken since the detection of her illness, she was amazed by how she held up without him now.

Her phone rang. Blair took it quickly, wanting and needing to hear Chuck. She saw the caller id, then sighed. She answered the call.

"I just wanted to check in and ask how the babies are," he said cheerfully. "Are they missing their Uncle Nate? I'm coming home in the weekend and found these amazing tiny Yale sweatshirts."

"Nate—"

Coming down from adrenaline, she discovered, was far more shattering than hormones. She felt the extreme tightening in her throat, then she was blinded by the tears in her eyes. She sniffled. Then she sobbed.

"Blair," he said firmly, "what's wrong?"

And the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Yale and Hampton have measles. They're sick and they're crying and I'm alone."

Dorota grunted when the nannies reacted. Blair waved away the nannies' look of surprise. Without her family, she was alone. Without Chuck, she was alone.

"I'm sure your mom will come help you out."

"She's in Milan," Blair said bitterly, almost disappointed that Eleanor had a career of her own while her children were sick. "And Lily's in California scouting for a new talent. She's supposed to redecorate. She wants a hot new artist to invest in."

"And Chuck's out of the country," Nate added. She nodded, as if he could see her. He decided, "I'm skipping school. I'll cut out for the week and stay with you until one of them comes home."

"You don't have to do that," she said softly. But she needed someone. She needed Chuck. He was the father and he should be there on the difficult days the same way he was there when they were having fun and games. But she had heard his voice the night before, knew she would never understand what he saw, what he experienced. Right this moment, she knew, he was offering to help another family who lost both father and son in the construction site.

"Of course I do," he said gently. "I'll be there in a few hours."

She hung up the phone and saw the babies had fallen asleep in their carseats. She reached out to hold their hands and check their temperature. Blair turned to Dorota, who was busily texting. The maid looked up and nodded at Blair. "The pediatrician will be in hospital in half hour," she told Blair.

The limo parked in front of the emergency room. The moment Blair stepped out of the limo, one stray photographer started running towards her and calling her name.

Blair blinked away the blindness that burned her pupils when he first took a flash photo. She turned to the black car that had been driving behind them unassumingly.

"Wait," she told the nannies. "Wait for Ben and Jerry to make sure the coast is clear." The children were sick and uncomfortable enough to have to be exposed to the harsh light of the powerful camera flashes. When the large men had done their part, Blair allowed the nannies to bring in her children.

They confirmed that it was measles an hour later. The pediatrician gave instructions on their care, and Dorota made certain that the nannies wrote down even the simplest statement from the doctor.

"It's a mild case, Mrs Bass," he assured her. "Let the virus run its course. They'll be good as new in no time."

With those words, finally, she crashed. There was no more need to stay on top of it all, no need to be strong and alert. The twins were on IV for their liquid and nurses monitored them every hour. Dorota was walking the nannies through the do's and don't's while the nannies counterchecked the instructions in their little journal.

Blair looked around the room and saw Yale coughing in her sleep, but restful. Hampton slept quietly despite the rash that had now spread to his limbs.

Blair settled on the couch beside the window. She felt the trembling begin. First, it was her hands, then her knees. She grabbed the cabinet unsteadily, then lay down on the couch. She closed her eyes as her heart pumped erratically in her chest as she came down from the high and recovered from the sheer exhaustion of the last hour.

Her phone vibrated inside her bag. She blinked and stared at her moving bag, but she was completely out. Dorota had stopped the nurses and was asking them questions for the benefit of the nannies.

Blair settled back and allowed her body to relax.

"Miss Blair," she heard the voice. A gentle shaking brought her back to wakefulness.

"Don't wake her up. I'll talk to the doctor."

Blair smiled and burrowed deeper in the lumpy couch. But she had already been woken. She turned on her side and opened her eyes, then watched as Nate held up Hampton. The nurse searched for a vein on Hampton's leg. Very cautiously the nurse inserted a needle for Hampton's IV.

Hampton started crying out loud, causing Yale to fuss. At this, Blair sat up and waited until the world righted itself again.

"Hey," Nate greeted. "You shouldn't have gotten up. We can handle it."

She walked over to Nate and touched Hampton's leg. "How much longer are they supposed to be on IV?"

"Until they can get enough liquids by themselves," he answered. Nate assessed her, then said, "You were out cold."

"Completely," she said. "Thank you, Nate. For coming."

Nate grinned, then told her, "Don't mention it. You know I'd do everything for you and the kids, don't you?"

At the words, Blair searched his face for a sign of… something. She shook her head. There was nothing but genuine concern in his eyes. He certainly did not look at her as if he were in love. She would have recognized the look. It was the look Chuck gave her every day of their lives.

Blair walked over to Yale, you seemed to be lapping up the Vitamin A drops. Yale's nanny held up a bottle of water to Yale's mouth and the baby suckled on it like there was no tomorrow. Her limbs were clear of IV.

"The doctor saw how much water she's taking in so they thought she didn't need any more drip," Nate informed her.

Blair looked at her daughter with delight. She brushed the curly hair that she had hoped Yale would eventually grow. Blair spotted her phone outside her bag. She remembered the vibrating ring from earlier in the day so she reached for it.

She searched for a record of missed calls, and saw Chuck's name. She dialed his number and found it out of service area.

"Miss Blair, Mr Chuck is on his way to States," Dorota offered.

"Wait, what? He's done?"

"Chuck's coming home," Nate informed her. "I just—when your phone wouldn't stop ringing and I saw it was Chuck, I answered. I didn't know you never told him about rushing the twins to the hospital. He was shocked about my answering your phone, and I didn't want him to get jealous and thinking we've done something—intimate."

Blair licked her lips. "So you told him that you're here with me in the hospital taking care of his family."

"Chuck isn't illogical, Blair. He'll know we're not cheating on him. I mean, he could hear Dorota in the background. In fact, I'd say he appreciates that you have someone close enough who can help out when he's not here."

It was true. Chuck knew and trusted her enough to know she would never sleep with anyone else. Chuck Bass was the love of her life and Chuck Bass knew it.

Still, she could not help but have the nagging feeling that to Chuck, this was far worse.

Tbc

AN: I know I said it before, but I will say it again. This fic has a life of its own. I had the last part all plotted out on my notebook, but when I started typing so much just wrote itself out and a story outside what my wrap up plan formed. Suffice to say, I still am not done.


	44. Chapter 44

**Part 44**

For such a highly-rated hospital, Chuck wondered why there was a creaking sound on the door when he pushed it open. He had arrived moments before, and had chartered a helicopter to take him right to the landing of the hospital. He had no desire to navigate through the barely moving traffic of New York City. Learning from Nate that his children were sick had sent him into the sort of calm panic he had adapted since having a family.

It was the similar, not the same, as the sort of panic he had gotten accustomed to when he was younger. He still acted quickly, almost thoughtlessly. He had not even checked out of his hotel room, and trusted that Gina would take care of the arrangements for him.

When he jumped off the chopper to the rooftop of the hospital and made his way down the steps and to the elevator, the very arrival would have called the attention of the media he wanted to avoid. Even so, it had been a relatively quiet trip down the corridor to the twins' room. Outside the door, in low-key black font, it indicated the name Bass.

He did not bother to knock. In the back of his head he knew why, but he could not admit it to himself. Instead, he told himself he had the right to walk in anytime he wanted. It was his children's hospital room.

At the side of the room, he recognized the figure preparing bottles of milk as Hampton's nanny. At the corner, just by the side of one bed, Blair stood with Yale in her arms, her cheek plastered to the side of their daughter's red face, her eyes closed and swaying. Yale mewled in her arms. Of the two, Yale was the one who cried less. He had noticed it since they were infants. And so seeing his daughter crying now told him about the discomfort that the child was fighting against.

He walked over to Hampton's bed and leaned down, saw his son with his limbs covered in rashes, sleeping soundly while sucking on his knuckles. Chuck brushed his thumb over the thick hair covering his son's forehead, felt the running fever on his skin.

Chuck walked over to Blair. Halfway across the room, before he could even touch her, she turned around and opened her eyes.

She could always tell when he was around.

His heart clenched when he saw her face, at the dark rings that had formed under her eyes. It had been two wasted hours searching for a flight that would take him back, another hour to prepare the company jet to fly out of schedule. Throughout the twenty hour flight he had stewed over the length of time it would take, and swore that he would fund an R&D that would cut the travel time shorter. But what irked the most, Chuck decided, was the look of fear that came over her face when she registered his presence.

He reached up, touched her face, then smiled.

And that was when the fear crept away from her expression, and she threw one arm around his neck and pulled him down for a tight embrace. His lips slanted over hers and he allowed his eyes to close for those few moments so he could cherish every split second.

When they parted, he traced the dark rings under her eyes. "How are the kids?" he asked.

"They'll be fine. We just have to keep them comfortable."

"Hampton," he said, without expounding.

Blair blinked, then glanced at her son on his bed. Yale turned her body away from Blair and reached for Chuck, like always, like what she enjoyed. Chuck took off his jacket, then reached for his daughter. Yale immediately laid her cheek on her father's shoulder and her crying relaxed into sniffles. Chuck brushed his nose against the curls at her temple.

"It's for the fluids. We need to make sure they don't get dehydrated. Hampton hasn't been drinking as much as Yale."

"Did they say until when he'll be on IV?" Chuck inquired, his mind already arranging a schedule for the children to return home and continue treatment from there.

"I don't know. We'll ask Nate," she offered. "He was the one who talked to the doctor."

His jaw locked at the comment, and he was too tired to hide it.

"I'm sorry," she started. "I was just too—"

"It's fine," he answered.

"I'm so glad you're here, Chuck," she told him softly, knowing the words did not seem logical. She had not called him. In fact, she had decided not to call him. But it remained true. "I didn't want to have to do this alone."

"But you weren't alone," Chuck reminded her. "Nate was right here to help you out." He noted the absence of the overnight bags that they had purchased when they found out about the pregnancy, and knew that Dorota and the other nanny were probably at home to gather more supplies for the hospital stay. "Where is he?"

"He's getting coffee," she offered.

It was amazing, how she had been standing on and off for hours trying to calm Yale. Within minutes in Chuck's arms the girl had fallen as soundly and restfully asleep as her brother. Chuck placed Yale down on the bed. He turned to Blair, then closed his hand around hers. She raised their entwined fingers and she brushed a kiss on the back of his hand.

"You shouldn't have coffee," he reminded her. At the one gesture, any twinge of spite he had felt about her decision gone like it never existed.

"I know," she said. "But I needed it. I was up all night with Yale."

"Well it's a good thing I'm back," he told her softly. Their eyes held together. "I'll stay up with them." He hated the sheer exhaustion on her face. Lily would tell him, over coffee, he was sure, that it was part and parcel of parenthood. But he would not be himself if the sight of those rings around her eyes, and knowing that she had experienced the terror of the twins' first illness without him, would not worry him. "And I'm better at helping you avoid things you should avoid."

There was a rapid knock on the door. Blair called her permission, and Chuck felt that much better that Nate had to knock.

"Something for the pretty ladies," Nate said cheerfully from the door. Chuck saw the bobbing animal balloon and the two cups of coffee that his friend brought with him. "There was only one left at the gift shop, but I'm sure Yale wouldn't mind sharing with her brother."

The balloon lowered when Nate saw Chuck. Chuck nodded, and tightened his grasp on Blair's hand. "You've been helping Blair out," he said.

Nate nodded, then stepped inside the room, peeking at both Hampton and Yale. "Only until you arrived," he answered. To Blair, he said, "You finally got her to sleep."

"I did," Chuck interjected. "She was just waiting for her dad."

Nate placed the balloon at the foot of Yale's bed. "Something for her to look at. She likes balloons."

"Walk with me, Nate," Chuck invited.

"Sure," Nate acknowledged. He offered one cup of coffee to Blair.

Blair leaned and sniffed at the coffee. She smiled, then refused. "Chuck just reminded me that I'm supposed to avoid caffeine. I'll sleep it off."

Chuck closed his hand over the proffered cup. "I'll take it. I'll stay up with the kids tonight."

"That's good," Nate answered. "You can get some rest," he told Blair. "I think two grown men can handle the twins tonight."

Chuck released Blair's hand, then threw an arm around his friend. "Come on, Archibald. Let's take a walk." To his wife, he said, "I'll be right back."

Chuck raised his hand and waved goodbye to Blair. He watched carefully when Nate turned and grinned at his wife. He led the way to the waiting area close to the twins' room, so he would still know whatever activity was happening and observe when the nurses came in and out.

They sat across from each other. Nate brought the coffee cup up to his lips to sip. He sighed in contentment. "I needed that. The twins were crying most of the night," Nate shared. "I've been falling asleep in my chair all day."

"Don't get me wrong, Archibald. I'm grateful that you were here for Blair," Chuck started. He placed the coffee cup on the table between them.

Nate's eyes narrowed. He lowered his coffee cup. "That sounds like an ominous start."

"I'll cut to the chase," Chuck decided. He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "What the hell are you doing, Archibald?"

"Chuck, I was your best man. And I'm the twins' godfather. You were away and your wife was freaking out."

Chuck straightened, then leaned back in the armchair. "She called you for help."

"I called her to check up on her, the way I always do. I called her because I knew it's your first trip away without her." Nate's brows furrowed. "And I don't see why there's a need for me to defend myself. I did a good thing here, Chuck."

"Maybe I'm just overly concerned," Chuck said smoothly, "at the fact that I just learned that you missed a completion exam for this."

Nate licked his lips. And then he picked up his coffee and sipped. "I'll take it next year," he said. "I wouldn't need to retake the course. I'll be marked incomplete until I pass the test."

"Next year," Chuck repeated.

"She was afraid," Nate defended.

"I made arrangements for you to take the exam when you return tomorrow," Chuck informed his friend.

"Yale and Hampton have a few more days before they're better," Nate reminded him.

"And their father's home," Chuck returned. He rose from his seat, then walked by Nate. He stopped and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I appreciate it, Nate. Very much."

Nate sighed, then got up from the seat as well. He turned to Chuck. "For what it's worth, I'm dating someone. And she's hot."

Chuck grinned. "They always are."

Nate shook his head. "That reminds me. She doesn't know where I am. I should text her. She's probably wondering where I am."

"You've been missing for more than twenty four hours. I'd say it's reasonable for your to let her know you're alive," Chuck pointed out. There had been times when he could not care less about keeping a girl up to date, but that had been so long ago he barely remembered it.

"What can I say?" Nate said softly. "You never can forget your first love, or ignore the fact that she's got the entire life you planned with her with someone else."

Chuck threw him a wry look. "Try."

Nate chuckled. "Why do you think I never run out of girls?" he said half-truthfully. "A man has got to try and try."

Chuck jerked his head in the direction of the room. "Come on. Say goodbye to Blair and the kids before you leave." Nate nodded, then walked after his friend. "You reviewed, right? You're not using my family as some pathetic excuse to delay your exam because you got high instead of reading your course materials?"

"Why don't we tell Blair that?" he suggested. "That sounds slightly less pathetic than my reason."

Chuck halted in his step. When Nate caught up with him, he said to his best friend, "We don't have to tell Blair anything."

Nate smiled, and Chuck nodded.

They returned to the room to find Blair getting ready to sleep. Dorota had arrived with the other nanny and the three were busy unpacking the supplies they brought with them. Chuck walked over to Hampton to check on the spot on his leg where the IV was inserted. He observed as his best friend casually bent down to hug his wife.

Blair appeared disappointed that Nate needed to leave, but nodded and thanked him with a kiss on Nate's cheek.

Nate walked over to Yale's bed and placed a kiss on the baby's forehead. He then went to Hampton's bed to check on the boy. He looked up at Chuck.

"Man, they don't look like you," Nate shared his observation. "They look like her."

"Lucky them," Chuck mumbled.

Nate grinned. "It makes it harder to tell myself this is all yours."

Chuck's jaw ticked. He repeated, "Try."

Nate turned back to wave at Blair. Chuck watched the way Nate's gaze fell to the floor, then flickered at Blair, and then almost instantly turn away. His best friend's breathing grew heavier, deeper. Nate gave a slight shake of his head, a self-deprecating laugh under his breath, then Nate pulled the door open and stepped outside.

And from that, Chuck knew.

tbc


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: **Wrote part of this in the airport, part of it on the plane and part in the hotel room.

**Part 45**

What could it hurt, really?

Chuck asked himself the question for the thousandth time since the split second when it all became clear to him.

His wife, adoring and lovely and stubborn and genius and ignorant as she was, loved him. She loved the life he gave her, thrived at the chance to have three people completely dependent on her, blossomed at the certainty that to three people—she was the universe. There was no mistaking the fact, no way to get around it, no need to wonder. From the day that Chuck Bass fell in love with her on a day so long ago he could not remember the exact time it happened, from the moment he said the words in the drunken stupor of their messy honeymoon in St Michele, there was no turning back.

Blair would never leave him. Just as sure as he was that there was no way he would leave his family, he was certain that Blair would never leave him for something as trite a reason as falling for another man.

First love or not.

So what could it really hurt, he wondered, if Nate Archibald did what he was best at, and fell again for the life he had lost? Chuck supposed he should empathize with his best friend. After all, in Nathaniel's place, he would be barely functional. If Blair lived this life with someone else, he would be catatonic, probably drunk off his ass and running his company to the ground.

Instead, he was the young, hip and contented father of two. The company was flourishing as much as it possibly could in the current state of the economy. And damn, did he not drop out of the hottest bachelors of Manhattan list and land straight into the top ten sexiest husbands of New York.

What could it hurt, he asked again. Nate was in Yale. If he managed to return to the Upper East Side every weekend—which, to Chuck's chagrin, Nate had managed to do since the kids were sent home from the hospital—Chuck still had five days over the two that Nate managed to sneak in with his family. Chuck even managed to cut it down to a few hours of dinner in the weekends by the most creative bookings everywhere.

Here and there, he managed to give his wife short projects that could occupy her, when he thought she would soon grow bored. She threw herself into the documents, dazzled in her presentations so much that no one ever questioned the CEO's preferential treatment.

Out of curiosity—and not at all jealousy—Chuck had checked on the existence of the hot girlfriend. Evidently, the woman existed. She was Nate's little flame, his best friend's show of rebellion. The Vanderbilts despised the girl's family, and Chuck wondered about the choice. The woman was pretty enough, cute more like.

Nothing that compared to Blair. But Nate seemed smitten, according to Humphrey. In Chuck's effort to find out about the girlfriend without being sly enough to set his PIs on Nate's trail, he had called Dan—for all intents and purposes his stepbrother now—uncharacteristically informing the other man about his concern.

"Nate is all about Bree," Dan had assured him. "Trust me. I'm a writer. I'm a people watcher."

"He's in love with my wife."

Uttering the words was a betrayal in itself. What could Dan Humphrey do? It was Nate's secret, and he did not hide it so well. Even so, having to say it to another person—least of all to Hamphrey—was the equivalent to metaphorically kicking Nate in the balls.

And suddenly, he did not feel so guilty.

"Has he made a move?"

Gifts that came out of nowhere, swallowing the possibility of an incomplete mark in a subject, popping out of the blue to surprise Blair.

"Not exactly."

What could it hurt?

The family was perfect, and Nate was no threat. But then he remembered the look on her face when he walked into that hospital room. He never wanted to see that look on her face again.

He started out of this reverie when the phone on his desk beeped. He glanced at the caller ID, then picked up the phone the moment he saw the name.

"Mrs Bass," he greeted. After close to two years of marriage, they had ample opportunity to come up with all sorts of endearments. Yet no matter how many they tried, nothing suited her more than that name.

"Hello, Mr Bass," she said cheerfully. "I'm calling to thank you about the gift."

"The gift."

"Just arrived. I'm holding it right now. Do you want me to open it now or do you want me to wait until you arrived?" Her voice dropped, to a tone she used when they were alone in the bedroom and she was a little playful. "Is this one of those gifts that I wear, but is really for your viewing pleasure?"

"I didn't send a gift, Blair," he admitted. He had a sick feeling sinking into his stomach. He did not want to hear her using that voice she reserved only for him, not if the gift she was holding was what he suspected.

"You didn't," she repeated. He heard the sound of tearing paper, and knew she was unwrapping the gift. And then he heard the chuckles from her end of the line. "It's from Nate," she said into the phone. "Obviously. And very sweet."

"You didn't see the card?" he prodded.

"There's no name. But it's from Nate. It's an animal balloon for Hampton." She paused, then chuckled again. "Remember he got a balloon for Yale the last time. It's exactly the same, but in blue."

He sighed into the phone. It was a thoughtful gift.

What could it hurt? It was a cheap animal balloon.

He heard the bell from the earpiece, and hoped to heaven Nate did not see fit to travel the hours from Yale to UES just to see Blair's reaction to the balloon. His best friend would not be so stupid. Nate was impractical in many things, irritating in others, but after their discussion when Chuck made it very clear how he felt, Nate would not make the mistake.

"Oh, Chuck, I have to go!"

"Blair, wait—"

"What?" she said breathlessly.

"Who's on the door?" he bit out.

"It's Cyrus and my mom!" she said excitedly. "They're back."

He sighed in relief. "Alright. I love you."

"I love you more," she said easily, just like they both always insisted, the same iteration that neither of them could prove. It was the best bit of disagreement two people could have.

Someday, someone would find a way to prove or disprove that statement. Chuck would probably buy the invention that could do that—and he would exchange his entire empire for it. And then he would destroy whatever it was. This was the best disagreement in the world to sustain.

"Impossible," he said again.

Blair hung up the phone with a smile. She turned around and saw her mother and Cyrus shuffling into the apartment. Eleanor waved at her and hurried towards the stairs. Cyrus shrugged his shoulders and grinned at Blair.

"Eleanor Rose insists that airport toilets are the work of the devil," he said in a hushed voice.

Blair giggled, then leaned down to accept Cyrus' embrace. She straightened, but Cyrus tightened his embrace. "More, more!"

"Oh, Cyrus, I really missed you."

Cyrus released her, then nodded empathically. "I heard. The measles." He made a clucking noise and shook his head. "Aaron got it when he was two. I was beside myself. How are the bunnies now?"

"They're both doing much better." She glanced up the steps and frowned. "Mom's not coming back down, is she?"

Cyrus scrunched his nose, then offered her his arm. "She's probably locked herself in the nursery with your twins. Shall we join her?"

"We shall," Blair answered.

Cyrus patted her hand as they made their way up the stairs. "And how are you, my dear?"

"Well, Serena's got a job now," she said. "She was planning on coming over this last weekend but she had to go to Milan for work. Isn't that amazing?"

"Well, Serena's a talented girl," Cyrus commented. "I'm sure she's enjoying the job. Is she?"

"What's not to enjoy? It sounds fabulous," Blair said. "And ugh." She shuddered. "Dan. You know, the waiter we had over—Dan Humphrey—"

"I remember Mr Humphrey. Serena's boyfriend."

"Ex," Blair pointed out. "He's got a job in the school paper. He's an editor waiting on the wings. The current editor is graduating this year, and they say he's a shoe in."

"Well good for him!" Cyrus said cheerfully.

"Nate and his new girlfriend are completely the most popular couple at their college." She smirked. "They're quite scandalous too. Politics and forbidden love."

Cyrus grinned. He opened the door to the nursery. "Sweetheart, do you want to go back to school?"

Blair gasped, then her face pinkened. "What are you talking about?" She noted Hampton's nanny look up at them. "Shhh. Cyrus, don't let the maids hear you. I don't want Chuck thinking—"

Cyrus looked at her, puzzled. "Blair, Chuck has always been very supportive of Yale."

"I'm a married woman."

"The last I heard, you were already married when you talked about Yale," Cyrus pointed out. "But you didn't want to leave him with the twins."

"We built Yale around the premise of a young couple pursuing their own ambitions, Cyrus." She glanced at her mother, who was holding Yale up by the armpits, inspecting. "Mom!"

Eleanor looked over at her daughter. "I am deciding the best cut for my granddaughter." And then she caught herself, laughing. "Granddaughter. I am much to young to have grandchildren."

"Any cut would be fabulous on Yale, mom," Blair declared. She turned to Cyrus. "Tell her."

Obediently enough, Cyrus informed his wife, "Any cut. Wonderful for such a pretty baby."

Eleanor rubbed her chin. "I dressed you up in nice princess dresses when you were a baby," she told Blair. "Yale would benefit from the same. And it's a good thing her curls are coming in. I was going to make her loads of hats if she never got her hair."

Hats would have been fabulous. And she could get her mom to make some for her, exactly like Yale's.

"Can you make a fedora for Hampton, and one for Chuck?"

Eleanor's men's line would not be called an epic fail, but it never did rise to the level of her women's collection. Of course, she had started out with dressing Chuck. And when Chuck appreciated the clothing made for him—which he did Eleanor's—the designer had a problem with her audience. Very few men would wear clothes that Chuck enjoyed flaunting.

"Why not," Eleanor said in agreement.

"Can you make a set for all four of us?" Blair asked in excitement.

"You would look ridiculous, darling."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Do you see my children?" she pointed out. "They're gorgeous. We would look adorable. We'll be your walking advertisement."

Ever the businesswoman, Eleanor's eyes shone with the probability. "A family line. The twins do look like they're born models." Blair nodded. "A fedora for Chuck, a little one for Hampton."

"And then you match it with wide-brimmed hats for me and Yale. It would be perfect for the summer."

Eleanor nodded. "Alright. But you have to promise me at least two outings wearing them."

Blair grinned. "Of course, mom."

"Chuck might not have worked as advertisement for Eleanor Original men's wear, but I'm sure my grandkids are attractive enough to work." Eleanor nodded. Blair thought she saw her children reflected in her mother's eyes, only now her poor little babies were surrounded by bags and bags of Eleanor Original creations, starring in a photo spread in her mother's head.

The glint in her mother's eyes was scary enough, and recalled to her mind the many days of her own childhood, instantly making her regret her request.

She sent a look of plea to Cyrus, but Cyrus already had his back to her as he played with Hampton. Blair bit her lip. Chuck, she decided. Tonight, she would tell her mother that Chuck had called the whole thing off. Eleanor respected the Bass temper enough that she would not question it, and liked Chuck well enough by now that she would not hold a grudge.

The visit lasted for two hours before Blair spied Cyrus almost falling off of his seat. She would not have minded so much, but Hampton was sitting on his lap watching his sister toddle around on her feet. She rushed over and plucked her son out of Cyrus' arms.

Blair waited with Eleanor and Cyrus for the elevator. As if perfectly timed, the elevator opened to reveal her husband coming home from work.

"Charles!" Eleanor greeted.

"Is any sight more beautiful than that of my mother-in-law greeting me home?" Chuck said smoothly, making Eleanor grunt in amusement. Chuck then sputtered when Eleanor whipped out a tape measure from her bag and looped it around his head.

"I'm checking your hat size," Eleanor explained.

"Why?" Chuck choked out.

"I'll explain later," Blair said quickly.

Eleanor squinted at the number on the tape. "You've got a big head, Charles," Eleanor muttered. "How fortunate for Blair that she had a c-section. Your children's heads would have ruined her body."

Blair scoffed and rolled her eyes. Chuck's face mottled red.

"Well come here now. We're leaving." She motioned for Chuck to lean down, and she gave Chuck a brisk but firm embrace.

Cyrus patted Chuck on the back. "Take care, Chuck," Cyrus said. "And," Cyrus advised, "pay attention."

"What do you mean?"

"Discontent in the ranks. Generals fall because of that. You've read the Art of War?"

"Of course. I'm running a business. It's a prerequisite," Chuck answered.

"Then you know it's not just about business and war. It's about everything in life, including love."

Blair placed a firm hand around Cyrus' wrist. She propelled Cyrus to the elevator that Eleanor was holding open. "You don't want mom to leave you. And she will if you don't hurry up."

Cyrus waved his hands in mock surrender. Blair sighed in relief when the doors closed. She turned around and smiled at Chuck. Her husband did not return the smile.

"What was that about, Blair?" Chuck asked at once.

Blair eyebrows shot up. "What makes you think it's me?" she demanded. "He said it's everything in life."

"Cyrus knows—the entire state knows—you're the only one who matters enough to talk to me about."

"What about the children?" she challenged.

"Come on, Blair. Discontent in the ranks?" he said, and she hated it when he made all the sense in the world. "Given the twins are not even-tempered, but discontent? I think they're a little too innocent for that."

Blair sighed. When you had a husband as in tune as Chuck, when you spent so long becoming as rhythmic as her and Chuck, try as you might, it was difficult to keep a secret. "Come on. Let's go to our room. It's easier to talk there."

Chuck nodded, closed her hand in his. "I hope you realize you won't be able to distract me with sex. I'm worried."

"Cyrus was blowing it out of proportion," she told him. Blair pushed the door open and dragged him towards their bedroom. He let her pull him, even though they both knew he was strong enough to stay his ground.

"Wait," he said. "If this is going to be a long conversation, I need to see the twins first."

She expected him to release her hand. Instead, he was the one who pulled her along this time. They entered the nursery and Chuck leaned over the playpen where Hampton steadily hit plastic building blocks with a toy hammer.

"He's a carpenter," Blair said.

Chuck smirked. "No. He's the new CEO of Bass. He just broke ground on a condo or mall expansion project in South America. And he's in a pictorial for the press release. He likes to be seen as a working man instead of a guy who got everything handed to him by excellent parents."

The thought made her chuckle. She could see it. In everything Hampton did, no matter that everyone said the twins were all her, she could see Chuck's stamp. He was his mother's baby, but every action, every look, every snort was Chuck.

Yale was in the corner lying on her stomach, babbling nonsensical words while she pretended to read her storybook.

"Hey, princess," Chuck greeted.

Yale's head bobbed up. When she spotted her father, the girl pulled herself up on unsteady feet and proudly toddled over to her father. "Daddeeee."

Chuck picked her up. Yale flipped her head as if she had long hair. Up high in her father's arm, she looked down with her nose turned up.

"Miss you, dee," she said. Then, she threw her arms around Chuck's neck and placed a sloppy kiss on her father's cheek.

Chuck closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of his daughter's skin. He met Blair's eyes over Yale's head. Within seconds Yale squirmed in Chuck's arms until he put her down in the pen. Yale returned to her abandoned book, then gave Chuck a toothy grin.

"Bye, dee."

Chuck turned to Blair. "That one is you."

"Because she got tired of you so fast?" Blair teased.

Chuck's smile faded. He held out his hand to her. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her against him. Her lips parted when his mouth slanted over hers. Blair backed towards the door, and they stumbled out into the corridor. There was not much sense exposing the children. They were old enough now to bring memories with them, or to repeat certain words they heard. Blair's hands grabbed the front of Chuck's shirt as she stumbled towards their bedroom.

Amazingly enough, without clear sight, they managed not to fall on top of each other. Next they were in their bedroom. Chuck kicked the door closed. Her fingers flew to undo the buttons of his shirt. Soon, she was pulling the shirt off his torso and his arms. Chuck stood in only his pants and his necktie.

The sight made her grin. She stepped back and undid the front buttons of her dress while she unbuckled his pants. When they were naked, Blair sat on the chair. She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and pulled him to her. She slowly, excruciatingly pulled his silk boxers down his hips. Chuck set his jaw when he looked down at her. His thumbs ran down her lower lip.

He sprang free of the gentle prison of his underwear. Blair looked down at him gently seeping. She flicked her tongue on the tip, making him strain harder, more firmly. She lowered her head and ran her tongue to the visible veins at the side. She brought up her hand to cup his sac. He was warm and throbbing in her hand.

She looked up at him, saw his throat work as she opened her mouth and drew him into her mouth. Inch by inch, she swallowed him. She managed her breathing, drawing his entire length into her. He hit the back of her throat, and she relaxed her muscles to make room. Chuck's mouth fell open. His fingers buried in her hair as he managed the movement of his hips. Blair drew him in further, then slowly worked her mouth in a gentle massage.

"Blair," he said, his voice strained. His fingers tightened in her hair. She could feel the tension when she placed her hands on his hips. "Mrs Bass, I'm—"

She tightened her mouth around him and placed her hands firmly on his ass. His hips jerked and she closed her eyes. Next, she could feel him pouring into her mouth. When he slipped from her mouth, she gasped for breath. And then he was pushing her on her back, jerking her up on the bed. Chuck pulled her panties off. She felt him settle between her legs. Blair felt him probing in her lower lips, hard and insistent. Her eyes flew open at the sensation. She grabbed his shoulders when he suddenly pushed into her wet channel.

"Ahhh," she groaned. "Oh, Chuck, that feels so good."

"I love you," he said wetly against her parted lips. He searched for the pulsepoint under her jawbone and placed an openmouthed kiss there. She placed one hand on the back of his head and urged him towards her straining breast. "So much."

She gasped when she felt what she wanted, his hot tongue laving her nipple. This was everything. This was heaven. This was so perfect she was insane to want something different.

"Chuck, don't stop," she cried out when he slammed his lips against her. He was filling her. And she was full, so full she wanted to just cry. His arms hooked under her legs. He raised her up, angling her hips. She felt every bit of his against every part of her. He slid out until he was almost completely out, and she grabbed his ass. "Don't. Don't leave."

And then, slowly, so excruciatingly slow he inched into her bit by bit. Blair's lips parted. Her breath escaped from her just as slowly. He slid out just as slowly. Blair moved her hips, without knowing what she wanted. Again, he slid inside her slowly. He did not move, embedded inside her completely. She squeezed his hips. He jerked his head, placed an open mouthed kiss on her mouth, breathing with her.

"Chuck, please."

He did not move.

Her eyesight was growing black with the tension growing tight in her belly. "Move."

He did not listen.

"Please, Mr Bass," she begged.

And still, he did not move. He placed a finger on her lips. "Breathe. One." She did. "Exhale. Two. Release. Three."

She could see nothing now. But she heard him, felt him on top of her as he breathed, his finger against her mouth, him inside her throbbing in odd rhythm with their joint breathing.

And then, it started. It began as a spark of light at the very center of her dark vision. It was swirl of light. And then it spun, grew larger, spun and spun and grew and grew until it was uncontrollable in its spinning frenzy.

Her stomach clench. She tightened, like a vise, gripping him and she saw the stars and felt the tightness coil ever tighter until finally—

It broke.

Her climax washed over her and the bright white spinning light blazed in her and then was gone. And she was floating in a calm, ocean of melted muscle.

"Blair," she heard him whisper.

"Hmmmm," was her only answer.

"Blair, are you alright?"

Finally, reluctantly, she opened her eyes. His face swam above her, his eyebrows furrowed. She lifted a heavy arm and brushed the crease with her thumb.

He released a sigh. "You had me worried."

"Why?" she asked. "I was fantastic. I was in heaven."

"You were unconscious," he said wryly.

"No. That's not possible," she whispered. "I was spinning."

"I suppose I should be proud for knocking my wife out having sex."

"You're probably used to that by now." She smiled. "That was a strategy. You played a trick. Did you read that from a book?"

And then he smirked. "I read it somewhere. Never tried before now."

"It was great," she judged. "Good job, Mr Bass." And then, she turned her back on him. "Now keep quiet. I need to recover my energy. I'm going to sleep."

"You distracted me with sex," Chuck grumbled. She felt him kiss her on her bare shoulder. He settled behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Fortunately for both of us, I'm exhausted too. We'll talk later, okay?"

She smiled, then pressed back so that they could lie down closer together. She closed a hand over his. "Later. I love you."

tbc

Yeah, I can write more, but I just arrived from the airport and I need to sleep. Work in a few hours. My friends, there was a sacrifice of sleep and time involved here. Please don't forget to write me a note. Yep, when I'm tired, I'm hungry for reviews. lol


	46. Chapter 46

**Part 46**

He knew she was awake the same way he could tell that he was. She was every part of his consciousness. It was in the depth of her breathing—not so much in a change in sound, nor a movement, no anything that any other person would notice. But he had shared a bed with Blair Waldorf since she was seventeen years old.

The moment she woke up, he knew.

These were the simple things no one else in the world would ever know. If he had anything to do about it, no one else would discover these little things reserved only for the two of them.

His arm tightened around her waist. She closed a hand over where his rested on her stomach. She rolled onto her back, and Chuck felt his heart skip a beat at the smile on her face.

He raised himself on his elbow. "You look like some cat that just ate cream," he commented at her expression.

"Mr Bass," she answered, "you could have said that in a much dirtier way. Thank you for controlling yourself."

She reached up to pull his head down for a kiss. He smirked when his lips touched hers. "I'm a wholesome character now. I'm a dad."

"You weren't so wholesome last night," she said. "But I like it that way."

He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Lying like this, with her head fanned on the pillow, surrounding her head, she looked like she did on her birthday a lifetime ago when they were her shameful secret and his rapidly approaching downfall.

"Are you ready to talk?" he asked.

"Is this about what Cyrus said? Because believe me, Chuck, he was blowing up something really simple."

He touched the strands of her hair. They stood out sharply against the pillows. Back then, she had been a stranger. Today she was so much a part of him even the beautiful lie seemed so perfectly obvious. So he asked, "Why aren't you happy?"

She sighed. "It's impossible not to be happy, Chuck," she assured him.

And that much he believed. He worked hard enough on their life, worked hard and kept himself in check, stayed attuned to her every thought. He would never fail again so much that she would slide back into the disease that hounded most of her adult life, that would send her into a frenzy of insecurity that she would ever hurt herself. That had been his biggest failure.

"How can I make you happier?" he asked earnestly. When she hesitated, he knew her enough to know the next statement to use. "Tell me. Next year, I don't want the twins to ask me why you're not happy."

She drew a shuddering breath. "That's not fair."

"I'm not playing fair," he admitted.

He was fighting for survival. If she did not give him this—if she did not give them this—Nate, bulimia, his childish faults or the heart condition were miniscule compared to this…

"Blair," he prompted softly. And then, he just had to say it. No matter how much he detested it, he had to say it. "Nate's in love with you."

She sucked in her breath. Sharply. He would take it as shock, a good sign. "No!" she said. "That's silly."

"He's in love with you," he said firmly. "He's in love with the kids. He's in love with our life," he told her honestly. Every word was a release.

"He's in Yale!" Blair argued, sitting up in the bed. She held up the blanket to her chest.

They had made love only hours before. It sat ill on him that they should have the conversation—that he would bring it up—when they were still naked and lying in what should have been afterglow.

"Why would he want this?" Blair demanded. She appeared to him to be sincerely offended. And then, after a few seconds, she flushed. Her shoulders relaxed. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded." Her voice had mellowed, by way of apology.

"I know," he muttered.

And in that he was relieved. This was not about someone else. It revolved around Nate. Nate was a tool. He had opened up the issue that Cyrus had eerily hinted at. For all he knew, Nate and Cyrus could have saved his marriage in that.

"I'm so bored," she finally said. "I love the kids. I love you. But when you proposed to me, when I said I'd marry you, this isn't what I signed up for."

He remembered that conversation. He had unearthed it in those agonizing weeks that he had been with Blair fighting her eating disorder. "You thought it would be only until I was successful with Bass. And then you could leave and go to Yale."

"I was so in love with you," she recalled. The twins had been their welcome surprise. They were unplanned, and they had been the reason that she had stayed. "I don't regret Hampton and Yale. I don't want them to ever believe that."

It was true. When he told her he loved her, even in the trip to Chianti to pick grapes, he had imagined all the adventures he would have with her. Just like all young couples, he had imagined exploring the rest of Europe with his wife. Even if she did not know it yet, she would stay with him. And he had delighted imagining the spoiled princess that she was backpacking with him.

"You've never even brought me home drunk after I partied way too much," she said sadly. "Most young couples experience that at least."

"How about our first night together," he reminded her. "Besides, apart from that, you'd never party way too much. You would have lost your poise," he pointed out.

"But if I wanted too," she insisted.

And then he realized what it was. It was the what if's that filled her already perfect life. They were questions from someone who could not believe she found anything lacking when in her mind she should only be thankful.

He wanted to reassure her that it was fine. Instead she said, "Then I wouldn't have let the paparazzi take pictures of you."

"That's so sweet," she gushed.

"I love you that much," he said, intending to do it lightly, but ending up with a thick voice. There were some things he could tease about, but some that were no longer possible to joke about. "Anything you want, Blair. Anything to keep this."

"I want to go back to school, Chuck," she admitted. "It's selfish. How are we going to do this?"

"We're not going to split up over this."

"That's just ridiculous!" she said sharply. "Where did that even come from?"

"I just wanted to make that very clear," he said. He kissed her hard. Her hand cupped his nape, pulling him closer. "And now that that's established, I can think more clearly."

"I can't believe you'd ever be terrified of that," she said.

He could not believe it was ever a puzzle to her. He supposed that it was really true, that she would never fully comprehend the extent of what he felt. It was like the way she told him he would never know how much she loved him.

"You're going to attend college," Chuck told her. "Don't worry about us."

"Twice a week," she said.

"Twice? You're only going to take a few subjects."

She nodded. "That's the only way I won't go insane," she told him.

He could not put into words how much that relieved him. "Twice a week then," he agreed. "We'll get a place close by so the twins and I can stay with you whenever we want. And then when we're here in Manhattan we'll send a chopper for you."

Blair shook her head. "We can't be impractical, Chuck. Not in this economy. We're not made of money."

"We really are," Chuck said. "Fine. I'll just send the limo to pick you up. That way, you're only away from us one night."

Blair paused. "You're really fine with this?"

"This is our life. This will make you happy, right?"

She nodded. "This—you saying it's fine—thinking about how to make this work—this makes me happy."

Blair rose from the bed, then bent down to pick up the dress she had discarded the night before. He licked his lips. She was always going to be the honey hips that brought him up to his feet in a roomful of scantily dressed women. At twenty, just as she was at seventeen, Blair Waldorf-Bass was his constant.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"It's four," she said. "I have a date."

"At four in the morning?"

She grinned. "You're usually asleep at this time." At four, he was still dead to the world. By the time he woke up at six to prepare for work, she was usually back in bed. She extended her hand to him. "Do you want to meet the handsome young man who entertains me while you're sleeping?"

Chuck nodded slowly, knowing already, but still eager to witness it. This was Blair's moment. From the day they first held the twins, he had noticed the connection of his son to his mother. Yale was completely his. The girl was not shy, and every bit the star that her mother was.

But Hampton. He wanted to see Hampton. He wanted to see himself in the boy, the way that Blair said he was.

He threw the robe on and placed his hand in hers. They entered the nursery. Blair placed a finger on her lips, then nodded towards the sleeping girl. Chuck kept himself from walking towards his daughter. He placed an arm around Blair's waist when they stopped in front of Hampton's crib.

Chuck was surprised at his son, who was lying down with wide open eyes, seeming to wait patiently for his mother to arrive.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted.

And then the somber eyes of his son crinkled. The boy gave his mother a toothy grin. Blair waved her fingers at Hampton. Her hands reached down and held them over her son. Chuck watched as Hampton reached up his hands to grab her fingers.

Using his mother's hands as leverage, Hampton pulled himself up and stood. He took unsteady steps towards the end of the crib. Blair placed Hampton's hands down to grip the side of the crib.

Hampton looked up at Blair, then recited unintelligible words.

"What else did you dream about, sweetheart?" Blair prompted.

Hampton's eyes did not waver, and made his noises again.

"He's talking to you," Chuck said in wonder. "Why doesn't he ever talk when there are other people around?"

"Hampton's little secret," she said. "My son only talks to mommy." She threw a look at Chuck, then gave a lopsided grin. "This is why I don't get too upset that Yale openly prefers you over me."

Chuck felt the little eyes on him. He glanced down and saw that his son was now looking at him. He swallowed. The boy seemed to wonder why it was that he had taken his mother's attention. Chuck's eyebrows rose. He placed an arm around Blair's shoulders. "My wife," he said. "Your mommy." Chuck shook his head. "I've been kissing your mommy long before you were born." He shrugged. "You're alive because I kept kissing your mommy."

Blair burst into soft laughter. She elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't make him cry, Chuck. This is happy hour."

"Happy hour?" he repeated. "This is why no pap is going to catch you stumbling out of a club drunk. This is how you define happy hour."

Blair picked Hampton up in her arms. "This is happy hour because this is the only time Hampton and I get to bond. His sister is such a star that he always has to share mommy." She smiled at her son. "Kiss mommy, baby."

Hampton pursed his lips and dropped a kiss on Blair's lips.

"Thank you, baby." Blair glanced at Chuck. "Now kiss daddy."

Hampton frowned, then turned to hug Blair. Chuck was hurt. He glanced at Yale's crib.

"Don't think about it. She's going to be in a rotten mood if you wake her up." Blair urged Hampton. "Come on, Hampton. Look at daddy. You love daddy, don't you? Kiss daddy."

Hampton peeked at Chuck from the shelter of Blair's neck.

"Hampton," Chuck said, "boys stick with boys. Mommy won't let you drive a car until you're sixteen. I'm going to let you try when you're fourteen," he promised.

"Daddy's had a limo driver all his life," Blair interjected, as if their son understood. "But it's okay. Daddy loves you very much."

It was the sound of her voice more than the words. Hampton finally loosened his hold on Blair, then turned to face Chuck. Hampton presented his cheek to his father. Chuck grumbled, "Mama's boy." He kissed Hampton on the cheek.

"He'll get used to it." And then her eyebrows rose. "You'll have to do happy hour with him when I'm off to college. You can bond with him." Blair placed Hampton on the soft mat of the playpen. "He always wakes up at four, and you just have to make sure you spend the hour with him. He'll go back to sleep."

"That's a weird pattern."

"Promise you'll stay with him. Don't sleep through happy hour, okay, Chuck?"

He nodded. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around Blair's waist while they watched Hampton inspect the toy animals in the pen. The boy looked up every now and then to give Blair a toothy grin. Chuck's arms tightened around Blair. "That boy is going to throw a fit the first night you're away at school."

"I know," she said sadly. "I hope he doesn't feel too bad." She bit her lip. "You'd call me right? If Hampton cries while I'm away. You'd get the helicopter to pick me up."

"Of course," he assured her.

"Promise me."

"I promise I'd send the chopper for you if Hampton and Yale miss you too much." He kissed her cheek. "And you have to promise me you won't fall for some hot college guy."

"I'm a married mother of two," she answered.

"That's not a promise," he said lightly.

"It is to me," she said. Blair turned in his arms and pulled him down for a kiss.

Tbc

AN: Next up for update in Dark Prince. Sorry to those who are writing about Heaven. That is a story that will really require time from me, and not the short time I manage to squeeze in every now and then. I know there are very few people reading Heaven, but those few people mean so much to me. I want to be able to craft the part you deserve. Until I have that time, that story is on hold.


	47. Chapter 47

**AN: **It was supposed to be another story right? But when the arc bites you, the arc wants you to work for it for always. lol

**Part 47**

There were three people he loved the most in the world. He was a rich man by all estimations, but he had never been richer than he was the day the twins were born. Of all the things in his life he regretted, having the twins was what he most celebrated.

All of this, he got, because of Blair.

Far be it for him to refuse the one thing she asked for.

They had been on the way to Yale for a campus visit. It was unnecessary, of course. Campus visits were designed for prospective students to learn about the college, to be more familiar with the buildings, to be exposed to its history. Blair Waldorf-Bass had lived and breathed Yale in a single-minded way that she could probably talk through the entire visit and surpass the student guide. But it was part of the college experience, Nate had insisted to him. Blair had spoken about taking that tour frequently enough that to miss it would be a shame.

For the unnecessary trip, Gina had turned his calendar upside down and squeezed in the precious hours so that Chuck could accompany Blair. Lily Bass had been requested to stay with the children. Chuck had been reluctant to leave the children in Manhattan, but he had wanted to give her the college experience the way she had dreamed it, and he hardly thought his girlhood ambition included two toddlers walking those stone steps with her.

Then again, Chuck knew for sure his presence was already veering away from all her plans.

But she had seemed so excited. She had prepared her clothes for the visit in advance, and her shoes had been laid out the night before. Blair had flown out of the shower with her hair wrapped in a towel. A longer, thicker one was wrapped around her body and tucked under her armpits. She had been vibrant and laughing with barely contained glee.

"I can't wait!" she squealed as she launched herself straight into his waiting arms.

This was the Blair he had almost forgotten. This was Blair from high school, before he broke her heart the first of many times. This was the Blair he had watched and admired from afar, when Nate's little displays of affection delighted her, and she did not mind showing how happy she was.

This was Blair the way he thought she would have been the first few years of their marriage, when he planned to shower her with gifts and take her on all the little adventures she deserved. This was the newlywed Blair he experienced only briefly during their Italian honeymoon, right before they found out she was pregnant, before she revisited her bulimia, before the doctors found out about the problem her disorder had wrought that would stay with her forever.

This was a Blair he missed.

"So eager to escape me for two days a week," he teased, leaning down to capture her lips. "You want to live the life of a single lady, don't you?"

"Of course," she taunted back. "A girl's got to have some freedom to dance on top of tables and flash strangers."

Chuck smirked. "We should have enrolled you to a party school instead."

She smiled, then locked her wrists at his nape and pulled him down. "I love you for this, you know," she told him again. "A girl can't find many husbands who are going to agree to this."

"Well a guy can't find many wives like you, so I've got to keep you happy." Chuck placed a kiss on her forehead. "Are you?"

"It's not obvious?" was her response. Her smirk grew. "This makes me so happy, Chuck. I'll miss the kids, but this is—unbelievable."

He took her hand, then brought it up to his lips. Her skin smelled of everything familiar, and even at the thought of one night away he already felt the sharp pang of missing her. He pulled his wife to his arms and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. He breathed in her scent. Her fingers buried in his hair. His one hand rose to pull the towel from her hair. He dropped the soaked, heavy cloth onto the floor.

"I hope you know what a big sacrifice this is for me, Mrs Bass—" he said roughly.

"Of course I do," she said with a smile.

She stepped away from him. Chuck watched in fascination as Blair's hands slowly rose to the knot of towel at her chest. Slowly, she loosened the knot. With a grin, she dropped the towel onto the floor.

His penis jumped in his pants. His crotch grew tighter and heavier, and he swallowed. Blair placed her hands on her hips, then she grinned and cocked her hip to the side. "You deserve a gift for it."

Naked, she was glorious. If he had been a poet, he was sure he would have published anthologies by now about her lips, her neck, her breasts. He was have waxed for days on about the dark V that led to paradise. But Chuck Bass was a businessman, and he had no words that were worth writing down on a piece of paper. He could not verbalize anything that she would swoon over hearing. So instead he showed her. He took her hand in his and led it to the bottom of his stomach, where he was sure his heart was wildly thudding now.

Her hand crept down, and his gaze met her playful, confident eyes.

"You're beautiful," he said. It was trite, but the words pleased her. It was easy to make Blair happy. It was his role in life to make sure she was always happy. It was even part of his wedding vows, he thought. Although right now, with his wife in naked abandon in front of him, he could barely remember his own children's names. "Beautiful," he choked.

He spent hours inside her, it seemed. Hours on top of her, hours underneath her. She fell asleep sprawled on top of him in sated languor and he was sure he made her happy.

When he woke up and stretched, he felt her move on top of him. Chuck said her name and when she looked up at him, he closed his mouth on over hers and rolled her onto her back. He held himself up by his elbows to grin down at her.

She was the first to speak, breathlessly at first, her voice bright with disbelief. "I can't believe we packed up the twins to go to Lily's only to postpone our trip to New Haven until tomorrow."

Chuck flexed his arm and glanced at the diamond studded watch that was still clasped around his wrist. It was late in the afternoon, and the next scheduled trip was in the morning. He would need to contact Gina to move his morning meetings as well. But he was in no hurry, so instead he placed his hands on his wife's hips. He inserted his knees between hers. "You're the one that dropped the towel," he pointed out. "I was just following your instructions."

The words seemed to make her proud. "You totally can't resist this," she pronounced.

"I never could," he admitted. "And I never will."

"Good."

"In fact," he continued, holding her gaze, "I can't resist this so much I'm ready again."

"You are?" she whispered.

He parted his legs, kneeing hers apart as they went along. He angled his hips and thrust up against her, sliding inside her easily with the remnants of their earlier lovemaking still on her.

"Oh," she gasped in surprise, "you are."

He laid his forehead on her shoulder, then thrust even more deeply. His tongue flicked out to play with her earlobe. Blair's hand crept up to clutch at his back while the other grasped at a clump of his hair. He could hear her gasping breath, her muffled moan. "Fifty years of this, Blair. Are you ready for it?"

Now he understood all the poems he had scoffed about in school, where men and women drew out prose about immortality. In school, when he was young, it had all seemed to be a march towards death. Morbidity grew in children whose parents succumbed too early.

Now, buried inside his wife, all he wanted was to live forever.

"Eighty," she gasped. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her face grew tight with every thrust he made. She was close. His hand crept down to where their bodies joined. One flick, he knew. One flick and he could send her over the edge. "Eighty years of this, Mr Bass."

He nodded. He plastered his lips on hers for an openmouthed kiss. Chuck said against her mouth, "I love you." And then, he flicked her nub with his thumb, sending her violently clamping over him, her body writhing uncontrollably underneath him.

She screamed into his mouth, and he swallowed her words. His own vision blacked out at the gripping spasm.

He released inside her over and over, and it seemed like she had drained him of his whole life. Chuck collapsed on top of her, chuckling. He tried to express himself in words, but all he heard from his mouth were incoherent strings of syllables. Blair dropped a kiss on his mouth, seeming to tell him no words were necessary for the occasion.

So he nodded, closed his eyes.

By the time morning rolled around, he woke up to see her dressed and ready to go. Chuck stood up and wrapped the towel she had discarded the day before around his hips. He walked past her and avoided touching her.

"Good choice," she said to him.

"Or else we are not getting out of this apartment," he agreed.

In the limo, on the way to Yale, she sat plastered beside him with orientation materials sitting on her lap. She flipped through the pages and pointed out the buildings that she wanted to see. Every time she looked up at him, her eyes sparkled with excitement. Her eyes, he thought, were like diamonds. He remembered them shining in irritation on her seventeenth birthday, when he had reluctantly confessed to butterflies.

Her voice dropped, and Chuck recognized the change of her expression. The tone of her voice fell. Within a split second, he felt himself grow hard.

"Do you think we'll have enough time to make love in every single one of these buildings, Chuck?"

"Blair—" he said, his voice a grumbling complaint.

She closed the book and set it aside on the leather seat. Blair sidled up next to him and pressed close. "Why, Mr Bass? You don't think we can do it?"

He turned his body so that her breasts would be pressed against her chest. "Mrs Bass, you forget that when I visit you, I will most likely bring the kids along."

"So we can't do it," she surmised. "Pity. Since you first told me about Yale, I always imagined we'd hit all the buildings by my second year."

The words were like a blanket aphrodisiac that hung over him for the rest of the trip. Chuck tried to fix his pants before they fell in line with the rest of the tour. When the student guide welcomed the group that had gathered in the lot, Chuck whispered to his wife, "Let's get out of here. We can take a private tour ourselves."

She glanced up at him and frowned. She clutched her materials to her chest, then told him, "No. I want to see how the day tour is done. Maybe someday I'd want to volunteer for this."

She probably would too, Chuck thought. She could inject life into the somewhat dull event. Every freshman group would vie for the chance to have her as the guide. The twins would probably want to tag along by that time. Chuck smirked, imagining that the pimply and gangly youth speaking in front was gone. In his place, his wife stood with her detailed and complicated headband, dressed in her expensive clothes and with two of the richest children in New York in tow. Hampton and Yale would probably be pushed around by their nannies while Blair did the tour. In the hot afternoon, his wife would need an umbrella. He pictured Dorota walking around holding a parasol up. The picture did not make sense in his brain until it was him shielding Blair from the sun.

Chuck Bass.

He did not think there was enough space in regular old passbooks that could contain all the zeroes that followed the fat numbers in his bank account balance.

But he would likely be a willing bearer of an umbrella if Blair started getting red from the sun.

It boggled the mind.

His temper flared with ridiculous speed the minute he spotted the blond young man in jeans and a jersey shirt—and why was he wearing a jersey shirt on a college tour!—staring at his wife. With the way Blair was carrying her envelopes her wedding ring was hidden, so Chuck raised his hand and rubbed his chin. He had to give the guy a chance. After all, he could possibly be just as innocent as Nate. Men could not help that initial attraction to Blair. His wife was fine. He was Chuck Bass and she got him eating off the palm of her hand.

To his utter amazement, the young man did not bother to glance at him even when he wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders. His wife was frowning at another direction, so he could not blame her for the man's attention. When the young man—pseudo Nate, Chuck would call him—stepped forward and towards Blair, Chuck felt his neck grow red.

Then, with lightning speed, Blair turned towards him, dropped the envelopes on the grass and drew him down by the neck. She plastered a large, heavy kiss right on his lips. Chuck gave a muffled grunt and balanced himself by planting both feet apart and placing his hands on her hips.

And then, she released him—after two thousand years. His eyes blearily opened and he looked down at her hard-kissed lips.

"The nerve of that blonde," she whispered furiously.

He had not thought she had spotted the young man. And even if she did, Blair often took attention as flattery. And then, she nodded towards her side. Chuck turned and spotted a statuesque blonde cheerleader waving her fingers at him, testing him, acting as if he had not just been in the throes of the longest kiss in the history of planet Earth.

"Oh my God!" Blair exclaimed. "She's shameless!"

His inflating ego was almost visible in front of his very eyes. Mrs Bass was jealous. The young man in his widely inappropriate sportswear was nothing but lint on his immaculate coat. Blair's hands now rested on his chest and she patted his shirt, her wedding ring in full glinting view, her engagement diamond hilariously glittering dollar signs that the young man would never be able to comprehend.

In his own quiet way of thanking her, Chuck raised his fist slowly up to be seen by the cheerleader. Then his finger shot up—his ring finger. Blair turned her head and saw the presented sight.

"Very nice, Mr Bass," she commented.

"I thought you'd say that." He glanced at the cheerleader, who now made her way towards the jersey-wearing young man. "Blair, is this what I'm going to expect when you're in college? Tall, blonde athletes chasing after you."

Shit. Nate was a tall, blonde, blue-eyed lacrosse captain. Evidently, his wife was a magnet for men who chose to expend their energy sweating for team sports.

"And I can expect every type of woman to sniff after you whenever I'm not around," she pointed out. "And you have a thing for blondes."

Who could blame her for that assessment, anyway? He had tried to force himself on Serena and Jenny, and had tried to run from his deepening involvement with Blair with a blonde interior designer.

"I had a thing for blondes," he corrected her. "Now I'm all about you."

Blair grinned, satisfied with the answer. She looped her arm around his as they joined the group walking and listening to the student guide. Chuck realized that they had abandoned her envelopes after their public display. He patted her hand and strode back to the site. He picked up the envelopes and jogged back to catch up with the group. When he drew nearer, he saw a young woman chatting up his wife.

He slowed his pace when Blair laughed. Blair spoke animatedly and pointed to a building in the far right corner of the campus. The girl was good. Blair would have snubbed her if the girl was anything less than stellar.

The group stopped and Chuck observed his wife standing near the back, looking at the people surrounding her. Blair stood out like a sore thumb. A beautiful, sore thumb. She was obviously cut from a different cloth—so different it may have come straight from another planet.

Maybe, maybe she would try to make friends even when people were far from her usual type. This was a whole new world after all.

Blair glanced back with a frown as she looked for him. Chuck straightened, then picked up his pace. When she spotted him, she brightened. She held out her hand to hold his.

"That took you long enough," she said.

"It did," he replied. Chuck dropped a kiss on the palm of her hand.

He was good. College or not--she still needed him.

~o~o~o~o~

A week before the start of classes, and already Chuck was dreading spending that one night alone in their bed. He had agreed to it, he told himself. And pleasing Blair was his job. She had postponed college for long enough and they had beautiful children because of it. It was time for her to get this part of her dream.

Chuck supposed that Blair was already dreading spending the time away from him despite her desire to go to college. His wife seemed distracted the past week.

"Is something wrong, Blair?" he asked.

Was it unfair of him to say out loud that he wished she would admit that she could not spend those two days away from him and the twins? Chuck decided not. As long, of course, as he did not voice out his suspicion.

"No," she said softly.

"Are you sure?" He placed a hand on her back and gave her a few comforting circular movements.

She blinked up at him, then shook her head. Chuck watched her and followed her with his eyes when she picked up the small green teddy bear on their bed. He stood and walked after her when she left the room.

She went to the nursery and placed the green teddy bear in Hampton's crib. Quickly, her hand flew up to her face and she brushed her fingers on her cheeks.

"I know you'll miss them," he said.

"It's just two days," she told him. "This isn't about that."

She could insist it all she wanted, but Chuck knew she was having second thoughts about leaving the twins.

"I love them so much," she said.

"Going to college doesn't mean you love them any less, Blair."

"You don't understand," she answered.

And he still did not understand, he supposed, when they went to the Eleanor's penthouse that night. Cyrus and Eleanor were on their way to Hollywood, and invited them to the penthouse for dinner.

"We're going to sell the penthouse," Eleanor stated. "I wanted you to be the first to know."

Chuck had seen the crestfallen look on Blair's face. The place was where she had grown up. On one of the walls of the kitchen, he could still see the carved lines that Harold had placed there that traced Blair's height for each of her birthdays.

"Why are you selling?" he asked for her, because right then she had looked speechless.

"Well, most of Cyrus' clients are in California now. And I'm opening a large boutique there," Eleanor said.

Blair excused herself from the table. Chuck stood up and followed his wife. He sighed when he saw the light spilling from under the bathroom door. He waited outside and knocked. She did not answer. Then, he heard the continuous sounds of heaving. Chuck closed his eyes. His jaw ticked with the effort to control his emotions. He rested his forehead on the door.

"Blair, please."

He was someone. He was someone great, but he could not deal with this. If this happened again, he would not know how he would deal with it again.

And then the door opened, and they were face to face. It was obvious that she had cried.

And he had thought they were happy.

"You wanted to know what this was all about," she said to him. He nodded, because he needed it. This could not be just about missing the children. Not anymore. If it were she could demand that the entire family pack up and live with her so she would not miss a single moment. And she knew him enough by now to know that he would say yes and ask how soon she wanted that.

There was only one reason she would be so affected.

"I think I'm pregnant," she said, her voice airy, almost as if she was not completely there.

Chuck closed his eyes. He released his breath, and it deflated him.

"I think I'm pregnant, Chuck," she said again.

It was slow. Too slow. It came at him from the tips of his fingers. The paralysis climbed like it was some demon in the night that slipped very carefully. This was terrifying fear.

"It's okay," she managed. "I'll just postpone Yale again."

Chuck could barely react when she walked past him and made her way to her old bedroom. Her bag and their coats sat on top of the bed. She picked up her bag and Chuck watched as she searched with trembling hands for the small white pill bottle. She shakily let one pill slide onto her palm. Blair swallowed the pill dry.

"I threw up the one I took earlier," she said by way of explanation. Blair placed the bottle back in the bag. And then, she placed her bag on the floor. She climbed onto her old bed, not caring that she crumpled their coats.

Chuck stared at the plastic bottle inside her open bag. He looked at his wife, who was silently staring at the wall. He glanced in that direction and saw the nailed Yale sweatshirt on the wall, the one that her father had given her, the one that had been a mainstay in her decoration since she was five.

He climbed onto the bed behind her. "I love you," he said. And he could not shake off the fear and the panic. And he could not shake off the guilt that he felt. "I love Yale and Hampton," he choked out.

"I'll love any other baby we have, Chuck," she promised.

Her voice—it was half-hearted, he thought. He could not say the same words, knowing they would ring completely false in his head. The guilt was there and it was overwhelming. He kissed the back of her shoulder, prayed to God that if it were true, this would be better on her than it had been having the twins.

"Blair," he said. He was responsible for her happiness. It was his job. This was his fault. He needed to make it up to her. "I'll buy you the penthouse." Then he felt the mild shudder that went through her.

He could tell. That was when she cried again.

tbc


	48. Chapter 48

**Part 48**

"One night the big bad wolf came and said, 'Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.' The two little pigs said, 'No, no, no! Not by the hair of our chinny chin chin!" he heard from the corridor. Chuck walked past the nursery and saw only the nannies inside, folding the twins' clothes and arranging the bottles in just the way that Dorota told them Blair wanted.

His wife's voice continued. The nannies turned to the door and nodded to him in greeting, then returned to work.

"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in…" Blair said in a lower voice, complete with effort to make it sound ominous.

Chuck found their bedroom door ajar. He pushed the door open and stared at his wife, with the twins lying on either side of her, holding up a picture book and reading the story. Yale stared up wide-eyed at the pages on the book, repeating key phrases back at Blair. Someday, she would be completely his little Blair—gorgeous to a fault, brilliant and sharp, and she could wrap Chuck around her little finger.

And Hampton. No one could ever doubt that the boy was his son. He ignored the book, but was caught in rapt fascination as he stared adoringly at his mother's face. He was quiet throughout while Yale cooed 'piggy' and 'bad wolf.' Instead, Hampton watched as Blair's lips moved while she read the story.

He stepped inside the room. Blair lowered the book and smiled at him in greeting. "Hello, daddy."

He loved the endearment more than he did Mr Bass, but he never told her. And now he answered, "Hey, mommy." Chuck made his way to his family as he pulled the tie loose and tossed it onto a chair. He shrugged off his coat, then placed it on the back of the chair. When he reached the side of the bed, he toed off his shoes. He lay down on the bed beside Yale, who automatically turned to burrow closer to her father. Chuck's palm rested on Blair's flat abdomen. "Have you heard from the doctor?"

She shook her head. Because Yale was embracing Chuck, it freed her other arm to hold Hampton closer. The little boy climbed on top of Blair and rested his head on Blair's breast. Chuck wrapped his hand around Hampton's arm to pull him off, to let up the pressure on her chest. Blair shook her head. "Let him."

"The doctor hasn't called. We're not sure yet." His eyes went to small packed suitcase at the foot of the bed. He had insisted that she be prepared. There was a chance, until the doctor said otherwise, that she was not pregnant. There was no reason to delay what had already been delayed, no need for him to take away the dream that she had willingly given up twice before—first, for him, and then for the twins. "If you're not pregnant, then I'll go with you on the drive to New Haven," he promised her.

If she was, then there was no need to discuss it. They had been there before, and now they were more educated. The prospect terrified him. If he was given this one free pass, then he would be more responsible. He swore he would be vigilant.

"The twins are a year old, aren't they, Chuck?" Lily had told him over coffee, when he had run terrified after her tearful admission in Eleanor's penthouse. "Chuck, the OB should have told you that there should be a minimum of two years between c-sections."

The company posted a fourteen percent growth since he took over from Jack, but the simple lecture had reduced him to the very model of incompetence.

Blair closed her eyes, then hummed a tune under her breath. Her hand moved in slow circular motions on Hampton's back. His son's eyes grew heavy. Hampton's mouth slackened as he dozed on his mother's chest. Yale buried her face in his armpit, smelling his scent for comfort until she too had fallen asleep.

It was then that Blair turned back to Chuck, with the children resting, and informed him, "I took four tests. They're all in the bathroom. They're all positive."

At this time almost two years ago, they had celebrated. The pregnancy with the twins, unexpected as it were, only proved they were in love. Flying high, fresh from a honeymoon where he had confessed his feelings, the addition of the pregnancy was a gift.

He wondered if it were fair to his third child that he greeted the news with a nod. "I'm calling in for a personal day," he informed her. "I'll go with you to the hospital."

"I'd like that," she answered. It was almost audible, he thought. Almost, he could hear her dream draining once again, swiftly, unforgivingly. "We can ask mom to stay here with the twins." He did not comment. But he would also call Lily. In case Eleanor was busy with the new boutique and the move, it was best to call his stepmother. Lily Bass, who did not work a day, would jump at the chance to stay with the children. "You were right about the penthouse. We should get it. We need the extra room," she said.

Chuck slid down lower on the bed. He moved to the side, then reached to kiss the top of her shoulder. And then he placed the tip of his nose against her skin. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's not your fault," she returned.

How many couples greeted news of another child as desolately, he wondered.

~o~o~o~o~

Chuck Bass had always had a tense relationship with the photographers. When he had first returned home from their Italian honeymoon, he had almost gotten into a brawl with them. When they had jostled his pregnant wife, he had installed Ben and Jerry for her protection. Through the months, he had developed himself into a lull with which he considered them part of his environment.

That day, he could not choose to ignore them. The flashing lightbulbs were a distraction. He knew what was at stake that day, and because they never released any of the details that came with Blair's first pregnancy, they did not. Not did they have a right to know, he defended.

But the trip to the hospital had been fraught with tension. His wife had reached for his hand, then gripped it in hers. Two years ago, he would have turned away. Something dark and awful clawed inside of him, and he could barely look her in the eye.

But he was her husband now, and he needed to do it no matter how ashamed he was.

"Do you know how much happier I am today than I was before we got married?" she said instead.

She was trying to take it away—the guilt, the shame, the regret. She was making the effort, when he did not deserve any of it. He gave her a sad smirk, the brought their clasped hands to his lips. "Happier now that you're out of school, when before I tricked you you were on your way to the Ivy League college of your dreams."

"You don't believe me?" she asked gently.

"I keep telling myself that if I give you everything, I could make up for stealing your future away."

She placed her head on his shoulder. He buried his nose in her hair. "I've got one of the hottest husbands in New York, and the two most beautiful children in the world. I don't have a day in college under my belt, but I have a share in a Fortune 50 company."

"That's not your dream," he insisted.

"Can't dreams change?"

"I know you. I know how much you want to go. I wanted to give this to you," he said softly. "I should've been paying attention. I should've made sure this didn't happen." He sighed.

"It's my body, Chuck. If anyone should have been making sure this didn't happen, it should have been me," she told him. "My therapist told me last year, when I was pregnant with the twins and I had started making myself throw up—You always have a choice between two responses to anything in life that happens. I can choose to become depressed about the fact that I'm sick and that I can't go to college while I'm pregnant. Or I can just be grateful that someone brand new is going to join my beautiful family," she said. "Help me choose to be happy, Chuck."

"We'll choose to be happy," he repeated.

"Yes."

So he held her, because whether or not he chose to be happy, he could not decide not to be afraid. He had canceled a trip to meet with the Malaysian prime minister regarding labor costs and child labor. The conference would have been attended by the top manufacturers in the US and Europe. His cancellation must have alerted the media to another event, and about eight reporters had already gathered around the hospital entrance.

When they stepped out of the limo, the press had flocked towards them. Blair gripped his arm and Chuck did not wait for their bodyguards before he hustled Blair towards the entrance.

"When was your last period?" the doctor asked Blair.

Blair bit her lip, then shook her head. "A month, two months ago. I don't remember. It's been so busy lately."

Within the next half hour, they were in the ultrasound room. She reached for his hand when the doctor inserted his probe, and every time it hurt just a little her hand tightened around his. Attention. He needed to pay attention to every one of the statements, every little reminder. This would not be a repeat of the last pregnancy when they had been unprepared. There would be no emergencies this time, no bleeding they would not know how to react to.

The image formed on the monitor, and he realized that the pregnancy was more advanced than a month. The doctor captured the images on the screen wordlessly. The doctor prepared the flat, metal instrument that was used to listen to the heartbeat. Last time, they could not even listen for the beat immediately because it had been too early.

The instrument was placed on the lower left part of her abdomen. Chuck watched with Blair as the instrument moved across her stomach, and the doctor pressed harder. The doctor excused herself. And then there were two of them. Their doctor was joined by an intern in blue scrubs who moved the flat instrument along and pressed.

The intern gave them a reassuring smile. And then, she drew a medium-sized needle and informed them, "I'll be taking some amniotic fluid for some tests."

"What for?" Chuck inquired. "I don't remember this from our last pregnancy."

Thankfully enough, it had not been drawn out. The intern drew the fluid out. When she left to do the lab work, their doctor sat down by Blair's bed. Chuck took the piece of cloth from her to wipe the gel from Blair's stomach. He met Blair's gaze and recognized the silent plea. He nodded.

He turned to the doctor and requested, "Why don't you tell me about it outside?"

The doctor glanced at her patient. "Blair?"

Blair nodded her head jerkily. "Just tell him."

Chuck walked with doctor out of the room. He slid his hands in his pants pocket. His head lowered. His heart raced. He needed his wife. With the expression on the doctor's face, he knew this was a time when he would want to cower within his wife's arms. But he was a husband and a father, and even at twenty he needed to be more than what he was.

She must have known. And she was the one who asked for this.

"What is it?"

"Mr Bass, there's no heartbeat."

His jaw tightened. Two doctors had tried, and he heard nothing. "It's too early," he said. When a man was about to fall, he would grasp at anything—even straws.

"Based on visual assessment, the pregnancy—"

"The baby—"

"The pregnancy is two months along. We'd like to test the fluid to verify. It doesn't look like the pregnancy is viable."

"Speak in English," he gritted out.

"Chuck," the doctor said softly, sliding into the comfort of their long acquaintance. "It appears like the baby is dead. Your wife will be aborting soon, and we should do it now instead of waiting for the body to expel the fetus spontaneously. It should be less traumatizing for Blair."

Less fucking traumatizing.

"What are the chances that you're wrong?" he said slowly. Before the answer, he felt his heart grow cold and hollow. Even before he heard the response, he could almost feel the icy fingers of his grief begin to take hold.

And the doctor told him, "Very little."

It world take an hour, even with their lab work prioritized, before they would have the results. He could return to Blair's room. Instead, Chuck sat grimly across the lab and waited. She needed him. She needed his company, but he knew something he would rather not tell her. It would be hell for them both to know, and wait for confirmation.

And so an hour and a half later, he made his way to Blair's room. When he stopped outside her door, he straightened his hunched shoulders. He glanced at himself on the mirror hanging by the wall. He brushed his fingers through his hair. Then, Chuck ran his hand across his face to smoothen his rough expression.

"It's her maintenance meds. It made for a hostile environment for the baby. It happens, Chuck. My advice is if you're going to try again, see her cardiologist. If Blair can manage it, you'll be advised to stop two of her medications for the duration of the pregnancy."

Chuck released his breath, then placed a hand on the doorknob. He pushed the door open. Blair sat up on the bed. Her eyes were red. Even before he could tell her, she probably knew. But he would be the one to break her heart.

"I'm sorry," he began.

She lowered her head, hiding her face from him. He saw the darkening circles on the blanket where her teardrops fell.

He closed his hand over hers.

"Did I do it? Did I want to go to Yale so bad that I made this happen?" Her free hand flew to her eyes. "I didn't want to be pregnant," she admitted. Her shoulders shook. "I killed it. I didn't want it, and it died."

"Hey," he said gently, sitting by her on the bed, taking her in his arms. She buried her face in the crook of her neck, and he felt the wash of her tears. His throat grew thick, and he could not help that his hand crept to her abdomen, over the baby he knew was there, over the child that would be gone by the end of the day. "It just wasn't time," he told her.

Someday when the wound was not so fresh, he could tell her why. Someday when they could try again.

For now, there was no reason to point to the little pills that only saved her life.

Chuck stood outside the operating room when Blair went under, waited just outside when they cleaned her body of the mass of blood that would have been his third baby. He felt the hand on his back, and he turned his head and found Cyrus standing beside him.

"How are you, son?"

Chuck released a shuddering breath. His body fell from the strong stance he had adopted since having had to face his wife. Finally, he could be just a little less invincible.

Chuck shook his head. "I'll be fine." He needed to be.

tbc


	49. Chapter 49

**Part 49**

Four hundred thirty two thousand seconds to Yale.

Only a day since she woke up from the surgery that cleaned her, that saved her, that drained the accidental mass of blood that would have changed their lives.

If it had grown, if it had continued, if it had not been broken down, it would have definitely changed them. Before they knew, Blair had been the happiest she had ever been—they were in love, their children were healthy, and she was finally going to Yale.

But it did not grow, did not continue. The mass of blood—which he could not, would not call a fetus now—had been broken down and drained. He had signed the consent for the surgery, and his decision had saved his wife from getting poisoned by a dead bab—mass of blood. And because of that it would not change their lives.

Only a day, and he was already proven wrong.

Chuck Bass had already lost count of how many times he uttered the words, 'I'm fine.'

He said it to Gina when he informed his assistant that he would be on temporary leave. He told Cyrus when the older man had seemed concerned about Chuck's decision. Lily accompanied him from signing Blair out of the hospital and back to the apartment. Before his stepmother left, he assured her that he was doing well.

When he answered a call from Nate, who asked about Blair and Hampton and Yale, then asked about how he was holding up, he had informed his best friend, "We barely processed that there was a new one before it was gone."

Blair had known about the baby longer, even if it was by a few days. She would grieve more, be more affected.

And he promised Harold he would hold strong for Blair.

The first night back in the apartment, he opened the door to their bedroom to find an empty bed. He went in search for his wife, and found her in the second place he looked. There she was, dry-eyed in the nursery, sitting in the corner holding a musical Leap frog doll.

The little box inside the doll was still powerful enough that it filled the room with a slow alphabet song.

Before she opened her mouth, he gave her the answer she needed, "I'm fine, Blair. Are you?"

And slowly, like she was doing it because he expected it, she nodded. She gave him a faint smile, and it was odd to see it given the tight lines around her lips. "I'm twenty," she said, with what he recognized as false cheer. "And I'm starting college next week. This was really a blessing in disguise."

Every word that fell from her lips was a lie.

The children were inside the playpen. His little girl was busy with her toys, unaware of how their home got just a bit darker in the span of less than ninety thousand seconds. But that would have seemed like forever to a child. His son, on the other hand, stood gripping at the fence of the pen and watched his mother.

But he would not call her bluff. Maybe if she said it a million times, she would believe it. He was taking the same strategy himself.

"It doesn't change us that much," he said softly. One of these days he would recognize how the reiteration could become overboard.

Chuck made his way into the nursery, to Blair's corner, and on the way Hampton glanced at him and watched his father quietly. Chuck nodded at his son, and he thought Hampton nodded too. Yale looked up and gave her father a front-toothed gummy grin—unaware, oblivious, happy in her tiny little world and just a little bit selfish. And he loved that this child was spared from what was suffocating him.

He sat on the floor beside Blair and plucked the green frog from her hands, turned off the power until the ABCs stopped at T.

"Should I still go?" she asked softly, in a whisper, as she rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"I don't see any reason why not," he answered, caught up still in the world they had silently established. College would open a whole new universe for her, would take her mind off things he would rather she not think about, would occupy her time when emptiness would only invite her to entertain thoughts of what could have been, and what had been. He turned his head, buried his nose in her hair. "We could do it exactly like how we planned. Two days away, and we would take you and we would pick you up—"

"Just like before—"

"Exactly like before," he answered. Did they not already agree that this would not change them?

She nodded, and he breathed in relief. Chuck turned back to watch his children. This time, almost as if satisfied, Hampton toddled to the wooden alphabet blocks he had abandoned and plopped down in front of the mess. Chuck wondered if his son had decided that his father could take over the watch.

He fell asleep, his body recovering the rest he had lost the night after the surgery, when he had stayed up and sat in his chair, watching over his family. He had brought Blair home after the surgery, and she had insisted that the children sleep with her on the bed. And even now she could not spend more than an hour without seeing the twins.

He woke up at the sound of crying. Beside him, Blair started awake, in a panic, gasping for a large breath. He could tell that the noise had jarred her awake. She shot up to her feet unsteadily. Chuck reached up for her, in his surprise having at least registered that neither of the twins was in danger.

"Blair—"

But she had already rushed to the pen and picked her Yale, holding her close and shushing her. Chuck stood up calmly and pressed the intercom buzzer that would call the nannies from their room.

"Is she in pain?" she asked quickly.

"No," he answered with a frown. "She doesn't sound like she's in pain. She sounds irritated." Chuck glanced down at Hampton just to be sure. The boy watched them curiously.

"No, no," Blair insisted. "She's hurting. She's sick again." Holding tightly to Yale, Blair went over to the door. "I need my bag. Call the driver. We're going to the hospital." And then she paused. Chuck could read her face, wondered if she thought the same exact thing he did.

The hospital couldn't save their baby the last time.

And mentally he berated himself, because didn't he say it was not a baby, but a mass of blood? It hurt less that way.

Yale's nanny was the first to arrive. She reached for the baby immediately, and Blair tightened her hold on Yale and shifted to avoid the hands.

"Miss Blair, give Yale to me," Dorota said then. "We just change diaper."

And then finally, Blair surrendered her daughter. Dorota laid Yale down on the table and the nanny untaped the adhesive holding the diaper together.

"Well if Yale's diaper is full, then yours would probably be overflowing," Chuck interjected. He picked Hampton up, then peered inside the diaper. "Time to change, little man." He grinned at his wife. "His diaper is heavy, but look at him. No complaints. Just like daddy."

And for a little bit, he congratulated himself because he must have taken her mind off unpleasant things. "You, Chuck Bass?" she said faintly. "Didn't you use to complain about every little thing? The cafeteria menu, our teachers, the uniforms, even the board."

"Oh no, Miss Blair. Mr Chuck was a behaved baby boy. Never cried," Dorota shared. "We go to park and meet with his nanny."

Chuck did not need to ask, because it was bound to be Lynn, and he did not want to hear it.

"She say Mr Chuck never complain. Like he never want to bother."

That was what happened when little boys knew how little their fathers thought of them. They did not want to be more of a burden than they already were.

When they were done changing Yale, they reached for Hampton. Chuck held up a hand and said, "I'll do it."

Yale was no longer crying, and Blair took her daughter in her arms and held her. She dismissed the nannies, even Dorota. Chuck looked down at his son and said, "You can go ahead and cry, Hampton. I'm not going to mind." He cleaned up his son, then put on a fresh diaper. When he picked him up, he kissed the boy on the forehead, unashamed, even with Blair watching.

He turned to his wife, and cherished the sight of his little girl's face so close to her mother's. She was a spitting image, and she was every inch a princess.

"I don't want to leave them," Blair said.

Chuck frowned. "I thought we agreed—"

She shook her head. "I can't lose another one," she finally confessed.

"Your dream—"

"It's not worth it."

He shook his head. He stepped closer to her, placed a hand on her cheek, then said, "You won't."

"You don't know that."

"Trust me," he said firmly, gripping her hand. "I won't let you down. You need this, Blair."

She narrowed her eyes. "What about you? What do you need?"

"I need you to do this for yourself, Blair," he told her, as honestly as he could.

They went to bed together. He gave her what she wanted, and Yale and Hampton slept on their big bed with them even when their own room had comfortable, luxurious beds. In the middle of the night, he found himself still wide awake looking down at Blair and the children. Finally, he rose from the bed and placed his feet in his slippers.

Midnight.

Three hundred eighty thousand seconds to Yale.

Every step, every breath, and the mass of blood that had been forced out of his wife was morphing in his mind. Every second that passed, his mind replayed the sonogram, and he could imagine the white dots they showed impossibly form into a face, imagine the staggering silence become fast, steady, echoing heartbeat.

He leaned down and kissed his wife's forehead. She stirred, then burrowed deeper in the bed. Chuck's thumb brushed over Yale's lips; his hand brushed through Hampton's thick tuft of hair.

And then, he found his attention wander to the empty, flat abdomen underneath the blanket, closed his eyes for a few seconds when he remembered that thirty nine hours ago there was a little Bass baby sleeping in there.

He strode away, picked up his phone, then walked out of the bedroom. He went to his home office and sat on the chair, in front of his locked laptop. His movement caused the mouse to move, and the screensaver started up, playing the slideshow pictures of his family.

He dialed the number, then placed the phone down on the desk on speakerphone.

"Chuck, what time is it there?"

Chuck placed his hands on the cool mahogany table, then answered, "Midnight."

"Midnight. Is anything wrong?" asked his father-in-law. "Are the kids alright?"

"I need your help, Harold. I am going to sue the hospital," Chuck hissed. "I will sue Blair's cardiologist. I'm going to see Johnson. I will sue the chief of staff. I will sue every last person employed there."

"Chuck," he heard Harold's voice soften, the worry drained, sympathy take over, "there is no reason to sue them."

"We lost a baby, Harold. And it's because of their negligence. I will shut the place down."

"Tell me why you think there was negligence," Harold answered.

"They should have told us—the medications, what they would do to a baby, the OB, the cardiologist—they all knew—"

"Chuck, you need to calm down and think this through. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Chuck bit out. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. I wasn't the one who went through another surgery. I wasn't the one that got scraped clean like our baby was some toxic garbage!"

"Charles," Harold responded, taking on the formal name, asserting control in the conversation.

Chuck took deep breaths, glaring at the phone as if doing so would be like glaring at his father-in-law. "I need to know you're going to support me in this, Harold."

"Charles, listen, I am a corporate lawyer, but even so I know there was no negligence that happened here." Harold paused. "In fact, the hospital did everything they could to save my daughter. This—"

"Don't you dare say that accidents happen, Harold. Don't you dare say that this was part of some big plan. If you do, I will fly to France and slam my fist—"

"I'll beat you to it. I'm flying to New York."

"I want to sue them!"

"You're looking for someone to blame," Harold said quietly. "Have you shared any of this with your wife?"

"She has enough to deal with, don't you think?" Chuck answered quickly, smoothly. "I would think you would know that. She's your daughter."

"Cyrus told me how you've been holding up," Harold commented. "He was very impressed with you. He said you put many of the men he met in the war to shame. You haven't cracked one bit in front of any of them."

"I told you," Chuck gritted out. "Do you expect me to show Blair that she has to hold me up to? That kid was inside her."

"And so you call me in Europe to crack. And you turn to the hospital to put the blame on someone. I've been there, Charles," Harold said. "I kept telling myself I wasn't gay, and then I started lashing out at Roman because I thought he made me want to divorce Eleanor."

"You're likening the loss of my baby to your coming out?" Chuck sputtered.

"My coming out was equivalent to my losing my family, Charles. I lost my chance to see my daughter every day that she was growing up."

Chuck leaned back in his seat. His gaze moved to the screensaver, and this time saw a picture of Blair with Yale and Hampton propped up on either knee.

"You don't think I have a leg to stand on if I sue."

"You'll probably win," Harold pointed out, "just because of who you are. But we both know this isn't going to give you what you need."

"Nothing is going to give me what I need."

"The baby?" Harold asked. Chuck grunted. "Is that what you think you need? Do you know what you need?" For the love of him, he did not know what would fix the burning hell inside of him. "You need to talk this through with Blair, Chuck. You have to lean on each other."

Chuck stood up, then walked to the wet bar. He poured himself a glass of scotch, downed it in one gulp. He stared at the empty glass, then poured another one.

Fire on fire, and it tamped down on the pain.

He found his own medicine.

"I know how to fix Blair, Harold. She's going to Yale, and she will forget all about this."

Harold sighed from the other end of the line. "Have the two of you seen someone about this?"

Chuck poured the drink down his throat. "You know what, Harold, I think just solved my problem. Thank you for talking me through it." He pressed the red button to hang up.

Seven thousand seconds, and the amber liquid was miraculous. Seven thousand seconds and the pain inside of him ebbed and teased and dulled away.

Seven thousand seconds and he was ready to return, believed in himself enough that he could face her knowing he would not crumble.

He opened the door to the bedroom and found her sitting at the edge of the bed. The twins slept quietly at the center.

Her head was down, her hair gathered over one shoulder. She looked up at his entrance, and he saw her eyes.

And then she said the words they had been trying to avoid for a hundred fifty one thousand seconds. One of them was bound to falter, and say them.

"It's not okay," she said.

He stayed still, kept his hand on the doorknob. "I know."

"We're not okay," she said.

He nodded.

"It's not the same, no matter what we say," she said. And then she lowered her head, twined her fingers together.

Chuck walked over to her, knelt in front of her as he searched her face. She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He closed his hands over her clasped ones. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly. This. This was what Harold could not know when he said to share the pain with his wife. This was what he did not see. Harold said it. He did not get to see Blair grow up, did not know her. Nobody knew his wife as well as he did. Not even her father.

"I'm praying," she answered.

And Blair only prayed when everything was crashing down on her.

"When I open my eyes," she said faintly, and Chuck thought right then she looked like a little girl who was wishing for a pony, "time would have turned back and the baby isn't dead. Take away college. I don't care. If that's what it takes. I'll take my baby over college any day. Please, please, please," she whispered.

If only it were a pony…

"Mrs Bass," he said.

"No," she answered. "I won't."

"Open your eyes, Blair."

"No!"

Millions and billions of seconds would not matter. Millions and billions of dollars meant shit.

Her hands trembled inside his. He tightened his hold on her. He rose to his feet, then pulled her into his embrace. Later, she would open her eyes and find that nothing had changed. He helped her back into bed and lay down behind her.

The effects of the scotch evaporated, and the clearer his mind, the heavier his heart.

One. Two. Three.

How many seconds would it take, he wondered, for pain to go away?

tbc


	50. Chapter 50

AN: Thank you. To those of you who shared your own experiences, I appreciate it. Dealing with grief is hard, and I wanted to stay true to both what I know and to the stages that are generally accepted in psychology. That being said, I haven't forgotten that this is still my light story. Bear with me as I follow the natural arc.

**Part 50**

She rested her head on the glass window of the small apartment. Her reading list, handed by Dan Humphrey, teaching assistant, at the end of today's lecture, lay unnoticed on her lap. She curled her legs underneath her. Her book—she was on page twelve now after two full hours of leafing through it although she had absolutely no recollection of anything that she read—was clutched to her chest.

It was a good thing that she was living alone. If she had a roommate she would have already been labeled a kook. While she read the words on the page she could not help the tears that just flowed freely down her cheeks. She did not sob, did not sniffle. But thoughts teased her head and the tears were silent. It would be different if the roommate knew what had only just happened to her, but she was not the type to share.

In moments like this, when she was alone, when there was time to think, when there was a little bit of quiet, this was what she faced. It was unstoppable—those tears. Gone was the paralyzing pain that almost suffocated her every time. Gone was the futile bargaining that occupied her time.

Instead, she was this. An uncontrollable mess of tears, empty of anything save the tears.

Chuck was right to send her off to school. From the night when she insisted that the children stay with her, to the morning when she could not keep her eyes off of them, he had been strong and present and cheerful. He played with the children, plucked the toy out of her hands when she was frozen with remembrance, scooped up the twins when was about to burst into tears.

She was not the type of mother that babies should see, not the type of wife who could stand by one of the most powerful men in America.

He was right. She needed to be away, to immerse herself in something besides their family, become part of affairs that would take her mind away.

She brushed her hand against her cheeks, then wiped the wetness off on her skirt.

Chuck should be putting the kids to bed now. Their nannies could do that, but she had made him swear to her that the nights she was away, he would read to them, tuck them in at night. There was no sense changing the children's ritual just because their mother became too weak to adapt.

It was Little Red Riding Hood today. She sent her husband a text message an hour ago, while she was on page seven and still could not tell what the theme was of the book she was reading. She should have remembered to tell him the two stories he needed to read to the kids even before she left for school. But she had been subpar since the heart monitor threw empty sound waves at them.

'I know, Mrs Bass,' he had texted her back. 'Dorota told me. Don't worry about us.'

To her eyes, the message could not be denied. He did not need her, could find out without her.

"I promise, Blair," he said to her, when she had refused to leave, when all she wanted was to stay with the twins. "Attending classes, meeting new people—it would help you."

To her ears, he was clear. He could not help her anymore.

She looked down at her book, eyed the brightly colored depiction of a bug with a young man's face. The man looked bewildered, desolate. At the top of the hard cover was embossed 'Metamorphosis.' What a ridiculous concept, but Humphrey had commented on how much she would adore it when he handed her the reading list.

"It's about waking up one day and realizing you aren't who you always thought you were," he had said. "It's about alienation from the world, starting with your own family."

She had stared up at the TA and snatched the paper from him. She followed his gaze, and saw that he was looking at the crumpled balls of tissue that littered the seat beside her.

So she had jutted up her chin and snapped, "Mind your own business, Humphrey!"

Humphrey had raised his hands in surrender, then made a show of backing away from her. When he had been far enough away she turned her glare on the piece of paper and burned the name Kafka with her eyes.

She opened the book again to the very first page. If she was to make heads or tails of the topic, she had to start from the beginning again. Even as she read the first words, her vision blurred and the piercing newborn wail filled her ears.

Blair shut the book with a thud, then tossed it over to the table. She would read it the next day, before class. Hopefully she could make it through several more pages before schedule. Or else she would have to suffer through the knowing look on Humphrey's face.

She padded across the room, then crawled into the empty bed by herself.

Blair buried her face in the pillow. When her eyes filled with tears, she cursed out loud and rolled onto her back. "Stop!" she commanded herself. Her voice echoed, thrown back by the tiles from the open bathroom. She needed to heal, to be better, to stop the ridiculous bouts of tears. If she did not, she was not going to be fit for the children to grow up with. "Stop, Blair."

Yale loved to laugh, enjoyed when her mommy tickled her, liked to roll around the bed and talk and talk and talk. And Hampton reflected her as much, and would likely not smile until he knew his mother was ready for it.

This crying, this lack of control, this over-the-top way of dealing with a terminated, unwanted pregnancy was unfair to the children, unfair to Chuck who handled it all with class, stepped up when she crumbled.

She closed her eyes, told herself to breathe in and out as regularly as she could. Eventually, she would fall asleep. And in sleep, unlike in every waking moment, pain was kind and did not visit her.

~o~o~o~o~

She opened her eyes to the warm, tickling sensation of a kiss on her neck. She smiled, because dreams were truly kind. She breathed in deeply, smelled the familiar perfume that her husband used. She murmured low in her throat in welcome.

"Missed me, Mrs Bass?" he whispered into her ear.

And Blair wrapped an arm around his neck and nodded. "So much," she breathed.

And he chuckled, deep and tremulous and real. Her eyes snapped open as she jarred herself awake. "Chuck!" she gasped, staring up into the warm, crinkled eyes that she knew she would wake up to for the rest of her life.

"It's been a day, Mrs Bass," he pointed out.

She glanced wide-eyed at the clock on the wall. Midnight. And he was there. "Chuck, did you leave the kids?"

He shook his head, kissed the pulsepoint beneath her ear. "They're right here, sleeping in the guestroom. Don't worry. The ride in the limo was very smooth, and there wasn't any traffic."

Blair sat up in excitement. With a peck on her husband's cheek, she pushed him away, then She ran barefoot out of the room and towards the guestroom. She brightened at the sight of the twins sleeping side by side on the large bed. "Oh!" She rushed into the room and hugged Dorota, who placed down the overnight bags in the closet. Blair climbed up on the bed and peppered her babies with kisses.

"They slept through the entire trip," she heard Chuck say from the doorway. "How about a little something for the one who actually worked for the surprise?"

Blair closed her eyes and breathed in the baby scent, then turned to give her husband a big smile. The expression trembled, her muscles straining from disuse. Still, she flew into her husband's arms in her gratitude, then kissed his chin. "I love you," she said. "Thank you."

"I love you too," he breathed back.

She smelled the faint scent of alcohol in his breath, did not comment on it. It had not been so much that it was foul. She only noticed because he hardly drank any since the dare he placed upon himself that he would not drink for the duration of her pregnancy with the twins. He had every right to drink. She was not pregnant.

She shook her head free of the little bits of morbid thoughts that crept into her head. There was no time to cry. Her husband was here, and he had brought her babies.

"I read Little Red Riding Hood to them," he assured her. "They fell asleep on me," he continued, and she heard the disappointment in his voice.

"Don't be offended, you baby!" she teased. "The whole point is that they need to fall asleep."

"I've seen you tell them a bedtime story. Hampton is glued to your face and Yale ooohs and aaaahs throughout," Chuck said. "It's different with me. I wasn't halfway through when your children were snoring."

Blair gasped, glancing at her angelic twins. "My babies don't snore."

"Fine," Chuck agreed. "They weren't snoring. More like—audibly sleeping."

Blair laughed softly, and even then it felt wonderful—like every little laugh lessened the tightness in her chest. "You're new at it," she pointed out. "We don't expect you to be fabulous at something you're not used to. We stumbled through our first project proposal for the board, didn't we?" He nodded, smiling at the memory of the proposal they had written in between bouts of lovemaking. What the board expected from newlyweds, he would never know. "Now look at you. You have the entire board eating off the palm of your hand."

Chuck nodded, then tugged at her hand. He kissed the shell of her ear, then said, "You were absolutely fantastic your first time."

And she smiled. Even in her happiness, she almost wept. This was the man she married, and he remained unshaken even when she called him out. He was going to keep them afloat, even when she struggled and sank a little every time.

He deserved to get her healed, deserved to have her fixed. He did not need to see the person that she was when it was quiet, and all she could offer was fruitless crying.

"What made you bring them?" she asked.

"I thought you might want to read them their morning story, before you go to class," he told her.

"I'd love to."

She woke at four in the morning. Her morning ritual with her son was still a part of her body clock. She looked up at the ceiling and grinned, remembering that her husband had brought her children to stay with her her first night away from home. She turned to her side to wake up Chuck, because he might enjoy becoming part of playtime with their son. The bed beside her was empty.

She grabbed a robe, only because the night was cool, and walked to the guestroom. The babies were both sleeping, and her brows furrowed. She had assumed that Chuck would already be there waiting for Hampton to wake up.

Blair went to the small living area, found Chuck sitting in one of the armchairs. In front of him, on the coffeetable, was a folder thick with documents. She had often found him in the same position at the start of his role in Bass.

But he was right there in her apartment, and there was no working when it was family time. She grinned, then picked up the folder.

"Wake up, Bass!" she said cheerfully. "It's happy hour."

The documents slid from the folder and dropped to the floor. Blair knelt on the floor to gather the papers, then froze. She held up a piece of paper and read the text. On the floor, by his leg, she noted the bottle of scotch lying on its side, empty.

She pushed the documents inside the folder, then pulled herself up to her feet. Blair slapped the folder onto Chuck's chest.

"Bass!" she called again, her voice sterner, firmer. "Wake up!"

Chuck grunted, then frowned, then turned at his side.

"Bass!" she cried again. She shook him. Chuck opened his eyes a crack. "Wake up right now. I want to talk to you."

Her husband peered at her, then froze. He sat up straight. He felt the folder she was holding to his chest. Chuck glanced down, then grabbed the folder.

"Too late," she snapped. "I've seen it. What are you doing, Bass?" He refused to answer, tightened his jaw and tried to stand up. She held him down with a hand on his chest. He could easily shrug her off, push her away. He would not dare. "What are you doing checking up on the people who've donated to St. Agatha's?"

"It's none of your business," he muttered.

"Nothing is none of my business," she parried. "Not when it comes to you."

"I'm planning on some deals, Blair," he answered.

"What does it have to do with a list of donations to the hospital?" She bent down and picked up the bottle, tossed it onto his lap. "And when did you start drinking so much that you can empty a bottle?"

Chuck caught the bottle before it hit his lap. His eyes narrowed at her. "Last week," he responded, his voice soft.

Her knees buckled, and she sat heavily on the coffee table. "Last week," she repeated. Her eyes fell to the folder again. Last week, they had made the trip to the hospital, and they were never the same again. "Chuck, what are you planning to do with that list?"

"I'm going to make each one of these people an offer they can't refuse," he admitted, and she knew it was because he had reached the limit of lies he could say.

"And?"

"In exchange, they stop funneling any more money into that hospital."

"Are you insane?" she hissed. "Do you know how many people depend on that hospital?" She shook her head. "Of course you do. Chuck—"

"They're incompetent, stupid, irresponsible—"

"Chuck, that is the hospital that I ran to when you were away and the kids had measles! That was where I had the twins—"

"That is the hospital where the fuckups who lost our baby work!"

She felt the air leave her body all at once. Her shoulders slumped. Her gaze lowered to her lap. And then, slowly, she raised her eyes and looked at his face. She cocked her head to the side. Blair placed her hands on the arms of his chair, then pulled herself forward. "You seemed so okay," she whispered.

He turned his face away.

"But you're not okay," she continued.

"There's a reason you got admitted to Yale," he lashed out. "You're not stupid."

She flinched. Right then, it seemed to her that he realized what he had said. He placed a hand on her arm, squeezed.

"Why are you angry?" she whispered.

And he stopped. Paused his breathing. Stilled his muscles. Froze with an expression that he might not be sure of. She asked him a question, and to her it almost seemed like he had no answer.

"Why are you angry?" she repeated.

"Because it doesn't make sense," he forced out.

"What doesn't make sense, Chuck?"

"It doesn't make sense to me why I'm feeling like the world just ended. We didn't want the kid, Blair. We didn't plan for the kid. I didn't know about the kid twenty four hours before it was gone." His voice dropped. "Why the hell do I feel like this?"

"So you're angry that you're sad," she surmised.

"I'm angry," he bit out. "I'm angry at your stupid cardiologist. I'm angry at the screw up OB. I'm pissed off at the chief of staff. I'm incensed about—"

"Are you angry at me?" she interrupted.

He hissed.

"I'm the one who needs to take the meds, Chuck. I'm the one who didn't notice that I missed my period the first month." She grabbed his chin, forced him to look at her. "I called Johnson yesterday," she confessed. "Did you know, Chuck, that the chances of the baby surviving would have increased by sixty percent if I stopped taking the meds within one month of conception?"

She held his gaze, did not blink, wondered why this time—at this particular confession—she was not crying. Crying seemed to be appropriate. It might make for a more sympathetic admission.

But her eyes were dry, burning even. She did not blink, needed to see every nanosecond of his reaction.

"I am going to live with that for the rest of my life," she told him. "Now you tell me why you're angry."

He closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"Tell me you're angry at me."

He squeezed his eyes even more tightly, then shook his head. "I'd be angry at myself before I ever get angry with you, Mrs Bass," he told her.

She looked at the empty bottle that he held. "Seeing that you already hate yourself, that doesn't help me one bit, Chuck." She glanced at the clock, then straightened. "Come on. Stand up. Brush your teeth so the scotch wouldn't smell, then follow me to the guestroom. Your son is up, and I assume you want to spend some time with him."

Blair walked back towards where the twins were. Chuck called her name. She stopped, but did not turn to look back at him. She did not need to see him stumble.

"It's alright, Chuck," she said calmly. "We'll be fine. Just—The kids and I will be waiting in the room, okay?"

"I'll be right behind you," he assured her.

tbc


	51. Chapter 51

**Part 51**

When all was said and done, it was the people you used to know who would make the biggest difference in your life. Chuck Bass knew it from the countless lectures his father never knew that Chuck listened to.

Wherever he went, whichever room they occupied, when the twins and his wife were with him, that was where his world revolved. It was easy to forget when Hampton stood so arrogantly, and blocked Chuck's path to his mother as if his little body could keep his father from his mother. So early, and Hampton's possessiveness made him wonder if he would have been the same way had he had a mother who so obviously adored him. When Yale thrust up her chin in her pride of having accomplished anything, his heart swelled to the point that he could tell he would, in a few more years, become a stage father and publish press releases for every school production and every little coloring contest award she won.

When Blair was within reach, all he could think about was a new distraction so he would not draw her into his arms and bury his nose in her hair.

To Chuck Bass—this was the world complete.

He could almost forget they were in New Haven, almost forget that he had a company waiting for him where tens of thousands of people's jobs depended on his word.

Like this—when Hampton and Yale slept soundly between Mr and Mrs Bass—he could forget that they had only just lost...

To leave that heaven, there needed to be a reason so essential. He remembered that when he walked across the pavement and tightened his coat around him. They were waiting for him, like two impossibly confused people sizing each other up under the sidewalk tree. He supposed it was testament to how he had grown the past two years that both men showed up at a single message from him.

Nate turned and raised both hands, palms open into the air, in a gesture that said to Chuck, in its silent madness, 'What the hell?'

Dan, on the other hand, turned towards Chuck and folded his arms across his chest. His face was somber and expectant. "This has got to be important," Dan said wryly, in his jeans and shirt that was so obviously from the Gap. With Lily's support or not, middle class naturally flowed to middle class stores.

Chuck gave the two a curl of his lips that could be taken as a smile. He nodded, to show his appreciation and to greet them both at once. The day was still early enough that there were few people on the campus lawn. Joggers and bikers passed by for their morning exercise. Otherwise, the place seemed private enough for the conversation he wanted.

"Is there a particular reason you wanted to talk to the two of us?" Nate prodded.

And Dan hopped on board the trail of thought. "Imagine what went through my head when I saw Nate Archibald waiting here."

"Archibald, Humphrey," he stated clearly. Dan's brows shot up to his forehead while Nate's characteristically furrowed as he waited for Chuck to expound. "This is about my wife."

"I haven't talked to Blair for more than that phone call last week," Nate replied defensively. Chuck remembered that call. He had been numb then and so had she. He ha almost refused her the phone but thought, at that particular time, that Nate was no threat. And then she melted into tears while clutching the handset to her ear, and he had known that Nate had given his condolences. "I've tried to avoid her since you talked to me. I haven't acted on anything, Chuck."

Dan physically leaned back and looked at Nate, then Chuck, then back again at Nate. He raised a hand as he spoke, as if doing so would help him assess the situation. "Wait a minute. Acted on what? Aren't you with Bree?" Dan prompted.

"I am," Nate muttered. He looked down on the floor.

At Nate's flush, Chuck shook his head. Dan piped up, "You have feelings for his wife? For Blair Waldorf?"

"Bass," Chuck added for effect.

"Man, Nate…" Dan trailed off.

"Hey!" Nate snapped. "It's not fair for you to raise this issue again when I haven't done anything."

"I know," Chuck said. "Calm down. I didn't ask for you to meet me to reopen old wounds."

"You know, I understand why you would want to meet Nate," Dan told Chuck. "In fact, I support it. Open line of communication and no bad blood and all that. I just—I fail to see what I'm here for."

Chuck turned his head and nodded. "I'm getting there," he told Dan. "Like I said. This is about my wife. And I need your help."

At that, Nate's stiff demeanor softened, and he looked at Chuck intently. "What do you need?"

Chuck wondered if somehow he had made a mistake, and opened up his marriage to more nightmares. But he had no choice but this. She needed to maintain a semblance of normalcy in her life—to experience the college life she wanted and to come home to the stable family she had lost when she herself was a young girl. He would do everything, spend all that he could. Whatever it took to make her happy. At the same time he was realistic enough to know he needed more than to be Chuck Bass to provide her with all that needed.

"Sooner or later, you and Blair are bound to run into each other again. It's a campus, not deep space," Chuck pointed out to Nate. To Dan, he said, "And you're interacting with her every week in class."

"I would hardly call handing out her graded papers or assigning her project partners any essential type of interaction at all," Dan responded. "But if that's what you mean, then yes. I'm interacting with your wife."

He cleared his throat once, then twice. The next part he had rehearsed in his head on the way, but it was still difficult to verbalize. "As you know, we just lost our last pregnancy."

It was almost as if it was a topic Nate was unprepared to address with Chuck, even though he had talked through it with Blair, made listened to her on the phone when she cried. Nate shifted to the balls of his feet, but did not speak. Nate leaned back against the tree trunk and nodded his confirmation.

"I didn't know," Dan stammered. "I haven't been caught up with the news—"

Chuck had blacked it out from the gossip rags. For what it was worth, it was hardly a task. In this, at least, the community had enough ethics not to have jumped on the tidbits of news that Blair and Chuck Bass had lost a child.

"That's why she always seemed so—different. In class, I mean," Dan continued.

"Now you know," Chuck stated. This time, both he and Nate were focused on the teaching assistant, the bane in their early high school who never seemed to fit in, the guy who Serena had swooned over when he carried Blair away from the quad in high school when they were all young and ignorant and hadn't considered the possibility of a pregnancy just because they were just eighteen. "You were bound to find out sooner or later anyway," Chuck said to Dan. "And I'm here because I need to know that that story won't suddenly pop up in literary journals just because you get inspired one of these days."

Chuck had seen her eyes, after all. When Blair was looking out the window, or to a blank space on the wall, it was easy to tell that she was caught again by that loss. If he could write, he would write about the blank look in her eyes that you could immediately connect with death.

He was sure Dan had seen that look.

"Humphrey, I need to know that you're not going to invade her privacy that way."

Dan's eyes brightened, almost in epiphany, as if he had only then just recognized that a look he could not quite place before now had a name. But he swore, "I won't do that to Blair."

It was not as if Dan Humphrey owed the Basses anything. Chuck would keep close tabs on him, but for the moment, this was as good as he was going to get. So Chuck said, "Thank you."

As if satisfied with Dan's promise, Nate straightened and now demanded his turn. "Why do you need me here?" he asked Chuck. "You already know I won't do anything that's going to hurt her or to humiliate her."

Dan flinched, like the words equated to things he was capable of doing to Blair Waldorf.

"You know me better than that, Chuck," Nate finished.

"I need all the help I can get," Chuck confessed.

Every passing silent moment he fought the urge to drink himself into oblivion, much in the destructive way he had done when his father passed away. But after what he had discovered about his best friend, he was not certain that was information that he could share. That problem he would deal with in another way, find other people who could help. He had stepsiblings, a stepmother, and all the money in the world to hire strangers for assistance in that regard.

"What I need from you, Nate, is your word." Chuck sighed. "Blair is here in Yale because she needs the time to feel what it's like to have a childhood dream come true. And I'll give her that. I'm staying in Manhattan with the twins so she can experience this." Nate nodded. "But I can't be afraid all the time that one day you're going to wake up wanting her back."

Nate flushed. Chuck realized that Dan Humphrey was still in the background. He muttered a thank you and a dismissal. And then, when he and Nate were alone again, he looked to his friend expectantly.

"I told you, Chuck. I'm not going to do anything. But you can't blame me for something I can't help." Nate shrugged. "I'm trying to make things work with my girlfriend. And I've stayed away when I could out of respect for our friendship. That clearly doesn't mean anything to you."

"I appreciate it," Chuck pointed out. "Things are different now. You're both in Yale, and I'm at home."

"I won't do anything," Nate promised. "But I can't stop feeling the way I do just because you're not comfortable. She's my first love."

"I know how that feels," Chuck acknowledged. He could not stop even if his life depended on it either.

And then, Nate placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Why are you even asking about this? You weren't nervous about me before. You know your place, and you know Blair."

Chuck remembered the bottle that Blair had discovered and taken away. He remembered the disappointment in her eyes. At the same time, her voice had been strong, commanding almost, when she drew him back into the room with the twins and insisted they not smell the scotch on his breath. Alcohol had once been the reason he had driven her away; it had been the reason she almost lost him.

And now it hung like a tempting golden beacon, lighting the way and calling to him like a siren.

Chuck met Nate's eyes and wondered how much he could trust him. He was his best friend, and for years of his life Chuck could readily have said he would defend Nate with his life. He was the best friend, but at the same time he was the only person who admitted that he loved his wife.

Chuck said, "Believe me, Nate. At the state our lives are in right now, I have every right to be afraid."

At that, Nate placed both hands on Chuck's shoulders. "Chuck, listen to me. You're not going to lose her. The two of you can continue fighting and screaming and scratching and biting and scheming until you're old and gray."

Nate held out his hand. Chuck looked down at it and considered. It was an offer of peace, a sign of his promise. If he accepted it, then he believed every promise that Nate had made. There would be no suspicion, no PIs trailing his best friend. He would trust Nate. And because he did, anything wrong that happened in his marriage would not involve him.

The state of his marriage would be defined only by Mr and Mrs Bass.

Chuck nodded, then closed his hand around Nate's.

When Chuck returned to the small apartment, the children were dressed for travel back to Manhattan. Blair glanced up and smiled to him in welcome. He walked up to her, and she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She was smelling for alcohol as much as showing her affection. He could not blame her, would not blame her. Not after the night before.

"I missed you this morning," she said.

"I went for a walk," he explained. "I'm taking the kids home, and I'll wait for you tonight for dinner."

She nodded. She brushed his cheek with her fingers, then traced the dark rings under his eyes. He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "You look like you didn't get enough sleep."

"There's still time to sleep tonight," he assured her.

"You're going to be exhausted at the office today."

He smiled. "It was worth it to sleep beside you."

"Even though you went out the moment you woke up?" she asked teasingly.

"I can do this every week, Blair. Just say the word," he urged. But he knew she needed the time, that one night a week, when she was just like every other person. It almost sounded like sacrilege, to equate her with others. She was so very clearly above them all. When she did not speak, he nodded and placed a kiss on the corner of her lips. "I'll see you tonight."

Transferring the twins to the limo, and all their bags and mats and strollers that were not used, took time and a village. While the maids loaded some of the toys, Chuck caught a whiff of an unpleasant odor emanating from Hampton's diaper. Blair laughed and reached for her son, but Chuck shook his head.

"My son and I will firm up the bonding process with this," he decided.

Blair made a face. "Are you sure?" She pointed towards Hampton's butt while holding Yale close. "Hampton explodes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he has messy poop," she informed her husband, who had barely done this type of work for the babies. "The nannies are otherwise occupied, but I can call them."

"I'll do it," Chuck said. "Besides, there's no one who had neat poop."

"I beg to differ," his wife told him. "Your daughter actually had the most organized diaper in the planet. When she poops, it's neat and contained in a single area of her diaper."

He chuckled. Chuck lay down his son on the bed and pulled the adhesive straps of the diaper. Hampton watched him curiously. Chuck arched his brows when the odor wafted up. "Little guy, that stinks." Hampton thrust up his chin with arrogance, as if his father was not just then going to clean up his mess. Chuck shook his head, then opened the diaper to reveal the messiest crap he had ever seen. "Now that is shit," he commented at the sight. "What have they been feeding you?"

Blair laughed when Chuck closed the diaper again. "Do you want me to call the nanny now?"

"No. I'm the father. I can do this," Chuck assured her.

Blair shrugged and allowed Chuck the honor that he seemed to be searching for. He prepared the wet tissues and the fresh diaper. A few seconds later Blair edged closer to him with Yale as they braved the tremendous stench that accompanied changing Hampton's diaper.

"Tighter," Blair advised.

Chuck packed the fresh diaper tighter, then patted the boy's thighs when it was done.

"Great job, Mr Bass!" Blair congratulated him.

Chuck grinned, then took Yale from Blair's arms. "Come here, baby girl. Let daddy smell what a baby is supposed to smell like." Yale giggled while Hampton turned on his stomach and pulled himself up and raised his arms towards Blair. "What a mama's boy," Chuck commented playfully when Blair gathered Hampton up in his arms.

"Give mommy a kiss, sweetheart," Blair urged to Yale.

Chuck dropped a kiss on Blair's lips. He winked at his wife, "I thought I'd get mine in before Yale gives you a sloppy, wet one."

"Make sure you have more saved up for tonight," Blair advised.

"I'll reserve my own sloppy, wet kisses tonight," Chuck assured her.

Dorota entered the room and handed Blair her phone. "You have message, Miss Blair."

Blair accepted the phone, but did not check the LCD yet. Instead, she kissed Yale and Hampton and told them to behave on the ride home with their father. Chuck leaned close to his wife. "How about me?"

"You behave too, Mr Bass."

"Definitely." Chuck leaned down and received an openmouthed kiss. "Who's sending you a message this early? You're not late for class, are you?" he inquired.

"No. I don't have class for two more hours," Blair answered. She checked her message. "Oh," she exclaimed in surprise. "It's Nate. That's odd. We haven't seen each other for a while."

"What does he want?" Chuck asked softly.

Blair checked the message and read through the text. "He wants to have lunch after my class. That's very thoughtful of him." She sent her response. "Now I have my personal welcome to Yale wagon. Isn't that nice?"

"Very nice of him. Is he bringing Bree?" Chuck asked.

"I don't think so. I'll ask him to bring her along." And then she placed the phone on the table. "Later," she decided. "Right now, I want to say goodbye properly." She kissed Chuck's chin. "I will miss you so much. Thirteen hours until we meet at home. Count it down," she said.

"I will," he promised. "Enjoy your day, Mrs Bass."

He rolled down the limo window as he waved to her. Chuck looked back as the limo drove away and saw her reenter the apartment. She was going to start getting ready for class, and would likely pick up her phone to respond to Nate's invitation.

Nate had promised, so Chuck knew not to worry. Trust. That was the first thing that Blair wanted, and she deserved it from the day she accepted his proposal.

Trust. He had it.

For his wife. It was overflowing.

His gaze flickered to where the nannies and Dorota were ensuring that the children were in place and entertained with toys for the long drive back to UES.

He sent a text message to his PI.

Trust.

Unfortunately for Nate, Chuck did completely understand what first love meant, and that it did not die, or vanish. It could not be contained just by one simple decision. If he were in Nate's place, he would not trust him either.

Chuck then dialed the number to Bass Industries' legal department. Ethan was still working there, despite the grand error he made with his first wedding.

"Ethan, I want you to set up a meeting with the hospital board. Do it next week," on the first day of two that Blair was away at Yale, but he did not need to know that, "and I want media blackout."

She would move on. He would do everything in his power so that she could move on and not stay stagnant with the loss. But he was the father, and he was the one who needed to do this. Someone had to pay.

tbc


	52. Chapter 52

**Part 52**

So many people thought it was impossible. In fact, she thought it was impossible. After a loss that was a vital and jarring as the one they experienced, the weekend trip to the park was a pleasant surprise that she relished for the sheer timing and simplicity of it.

Dorota was formidable as she commandeered the nannies. Within minutes of their arrival Blair was seated on a brightly patterned blanket that matched the color scheme of her dress. When Chuck arrived with a smile and a bottle of sparkling grape juice—a cheat they had both discovered the week before—and took off his coat, she delighted at the color of his tie that matched her dress and the flecks of the blanket.

Chuck leaned down to drop a kiss on her waiting lips, and she hardly noticed the blinking flashes that erupted around them. The paparazzi stayed a distance away and she was satisfied with the established privacy. There was no way to completely lose them, but Ben and Jerry did their jobs so well that the photographers had taken to heart the unspoken rule about taking pictures of the twins. Besides, given her confidence in the security Chuck provided her and the children, Blair had leapt onto the delicious decision that her children were too beautiful to deprive Manhattan of their photos.

"I'm five minutes late," he said.

"You're just in time," she greeted Chuck.

"You don't keep the most important people waiting," he told her.

Blair grinned. Gina had advised Dorota ahead of time that Chuck was in the heat of a business meeting. Chuck had decided to buy a hotel and after signing the papers and launching the hotel, he encountered a bit of trouble that he now tried to iron out. The previous owner of the Empire had pending tax issues only just discovered. It was going to be a loss, and Chuck Bass did not let a loss so big just go. "Even if you're talking to the revenue director of New York?"

He shook his head. He had tried not to get her involved with the problems recently, but he had to know that no one could keep secrets from her. "He's not as important as the Basses."

She was thrilled at the sight of Chuck make his way to the strollers where Yale and Hampton were strapped. With a jolly greeting for his twins, Chuck unsnapped the seatbelt buckles that held his children down and picked them up with one toddler sitting on each arm.

The paparazzi were going crazy. Blair hoped for their sake they had charged their camera batteries enough, or that they brought some spare power. Chuck wanted them to move on and she could just taste that the next few hours that they would have enough opportunities to live off the pictures for a while.

"They're getting so heavy," he grunted, then smirked with pleasure when Yale as usual touched his face and peppered his cheek with baby girl kisses. He arched an eyebrow at Hampton and asked, "How about you? Are you too old to give daddy a kiss?"

Hampton puckered his lips and blew hard, causing the dark floppy hair to fly off his forehead then flop back down. The boy kissed Chuck's other cheek. Chuck turned to Blair and said, "His hair is bothering him," he said. "And he reminds me of Nate when he does that."

"We'll get him a haircut," Blair promised, finding the horror funny when the boy was growing to be more like Chuck every day, even in the way he adored her.

He knelt on the blanket and once the twins neared the ground they squirmed in his arms. Hampton threw himself onto Blair, and Blair returned the hug and dropped a kiss on the thick brown hair. Yale's feet hit the blanket and she started toddling quickly away, making for the path towards the pond. Yale's nanny hurried after her.

"Yale and duckies," Hampton said.

"Do you want to feed the duckies with your sister?" Blair asked.

Hampton turned and watched as Yale's nanny held the girl's hand tightly so that the girl wouldn't jump onto the water. "Not tub," Hampton declared.

"That's right. It's not a bathtub. But feeding the ducks are fun," Chuck said. He grabbed a loaf of bread, then held his hand out to Hampton. The boy was only just beginning to come out of his shell—a shell Chuck recognized as the arrogant, shy shell he used to inhabit. Hampton had a precocious sister who held herself like a star, and a mother who coddled him for the knowledge that there weren't likely to be any more babies after. "Let's go feed the ducks."

Hampton reached out to hold Chuck's hand, reluctantly at first. When the small hand touched his, Chuck firmly grasped in his larger one.

"See you later, mom," Chuck prompted.

Hampton waved a hand at Blair, Blair waved energetically back. She watched from her place on the blanket as Hampton ran beside Chuck. Her husband handed a piece of loaf to Hampton and to Yale. Her son thoughtfully tear off smaller pieces and threw them into the water, laughed when the ducks pecked at the food. Yale, on the other hand, eagerly and competitively threw the entire piece that Chuck handed her.

The piece bobbed up and down with the water until it soaked enough water and just sank naturally without any benefit to the ducks.

Chuck let Hampton's hand go. He nodded at the nanny to release Yale's hand as well. Hampton walked to his sister and showed the little girl his style and strategy. Soon, the twins made their way to Chuck to get more bread. Chuck looked towards Blair with a large, satisfied smile. She nodded in acknowledgment at his success and blew him a kiss.

He crooked a finger playfully at her. Blair shook her head, then picked up two glasses of their cold sparkling juice. She rose and made her way towards the pond.

"What can you say, Mrs Bass?"

She handed him a glass. "That was very good, Mr Bass."

"So does this completely overshadow any other memories of the duck pond for you?" he asked softly, teasingly.

Blair arched an eyebrow at the question. It was a ridiculous question, and came when she least expected it. It reminded her that despite the billions and the nice, formal wear he paraded around in, he was just twenty one. "What other memories?" she humored him.

He pulled her up against him for a long, sweet kiss, and the world around her fell. She would only realize how inappropriate it was when she saw the front page tabloid picture two days later. There they were in a liplock, with the expensive zoom lens capturing the hint of tongue, with their twins holding the bread in their gloved hands staring up at their parents in fascination.

Lunch time saw the two little Basses slumped across the picnic blanket, their heads pillowed on their parents' laps. Chuck hefted Yale up and handed her to the nanny to strap into her stroller and then did the same for Hampton who was sleeping soundly on his mother.

"Home?" he asked, referring instead to the palatial residential suites that he had acquired for them and converted from the executive suites of the Empire.

She had agreed because the children were wiped and full of breadcrumbs from their rare adventure.

"Home to drop off the kids and rest until Lily's early dinner," he told her.

While the twins slept off their adventure, she stepped into Chuck's home office and found him poring through folders with his eyebrows furrowed. Blair walked over to him and Chuck immediately shoved the folders into his desk drawer and turned around to face her.

"What are those?"

He shook his head in dismissal. "No work. It's family day." He rested his hands on her waist and assisted her as she playfully climbed onto his lap. The ergonomic chair shifted under their combined weight and leaned back appropriately to allow Blair to cover Chuck's body. She nuzzled her nose against his. "You're enjoying family day, aren't you, Mrs Bass?"

"Family day is thrilling," she answered, nipping at his mouth with teasing lips.

She spread her legs to straddle him, and she ground herself against his crotch. Chuck hissed, then shifted. "We should get ready for Lily's dinner."

She frowned. "Now?" Blair glanced at the clock and said, "It's not until a couple of hours from now." She pushed her hips forward. The refusal was not because he was not in the mood either, because he was hard against her and his shallow breathing told her he was up and ready. "I want to make love."

Firmly, gently, he pushed her back to her feet. He stood up and Blair could see the bulge in his pants. "I'll take care of it." Chuck walked towards the bathroom. Blair huffed and followed. Chuck started to close the door but she held up a hand to keep him from doing so. "Blair," he said, his voice tight with frustration.

"Excuse me?" she demanded. "Mr Bass, are you seriously choosing to 'take care of it' instead of making love to your wife?" Her voice reeked of sarcasm and irritation.

"We have dinner."

"Time crunch?" she said, her voice rising. "You're citing time crunch?"

Chuck sighed, then leaned and kept his voice low. He said to Blair, "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's not your choice, mister!"

He narrowed his eyes, then shook his head. "It's been three months, Mrs Bass," he said quietly. At once, the reason hit her. "Three months since we lost the baby. You're not okay yet. I'll be damned if we have another accident—no matter how wonderful we think a new baby is—that will force us into that experience again." The reveal was punctuated with a quick kiss on her slack mouth. The door shut in her face.

Blair took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and took a few more calming ones. Finally, she twisted the knob them pushed the bathroom door open. She heard the muted grunting and the gasps. Blair saw his silhouette through the frosted glass shower door. She closed the door behind her. The sound caused him to stop and glance towards her. The noises he made stopped. Blair slid the frosted glass aside and said quietly, "Hey."

"Mrs Bass," he returned regally, despite the inglorious pose she found him in as he gripped himself in one fisted hand while his other hand rested against the shower wall.

"Sorry for being such a bitch," she said.

"Were you?" he answered with a smirk. "I didn't notice."

Blair chuckled. She nodded towards his hand. "Need help."

He grinned. "Your presence is help enough," he answered.

Still, she stepped into the shower area and covered his hand with hers. She stroked the length of him, then raised her face up to him and opened her mouth when he leaned for a kiss. He reached behind her and Blair jumped in her clothes when she felt the water rain down warmly on her back. She kept the rhythm and felt his hips jerk under her command.

"That's it, Mr Bass," she murmured.

He held up a sopping, foaming sponge between them, and Blair felt the cool sensation as he held it to her neck. The soap dribbled down the front of her designer dress. His head dipped so he could nuzzle her neck. He pushed into her hand and she felt the sticky, warm fluid spill onto her skin, some of it splashing onto her wet dress. He breathed heavily against her neck. "God, I love you, Mrs Bass."

"I know," she whispered in return.

She felt his hot mouth around her earlobe. Her hands squeezed his arms. "Now," he said warmly, "your turn." She gasped when he knelt on the wet tiled floor.

~o~o~o~o~

After Lily's dinner they lay in bed quiet. It was palpable, and she swore if she picked up the letter opener from his desk and slashed it in the air part of it would fall down to the ground. The reason for the small family gathering was simple, once they reached it. She was happy; he was not displeased about it.

The announcement came when deserts were brought in. When Rufus stood up and held up his flute of champagne, and Lily appeared dismayed at the way Rufus began, she knew what was coming.

It was like sixth sense now.

And so they lay in bed quietly even if they both told themselves the news did not affect them, or change the lovely day they had. But they were fooling themselves if they continued in this denial.

"What do you think it would have been?" she asked.

He sighed, then turned on his side so he could look at her face. "Do you really want to talk about it?"

Stubbornly, she kept to her strategy. "What would you have wanted?"

Lily's newly discovered pregnancy could be boy or girl and it would not matter to the woman. It was almost a miracle that she was having another baby after Eric, after more than fifteen years.

Chuck answered, his voice certain, with none of the fatherly coyness a lot of men had about babies—with none of the silly any gender would do as long as it's healthy speech. "A boy. So there would be two of them to protect Yale." He kissed her cheek. With his usual assurance, he added, "But Yale and Hampton are more than enough. The three of you are definitely more than I deserve."

Neither of them, after all, were good, kind souls who warranted this kind of happiness. "You know we can move on from this, don't you, Chuck?"

"I want you to move on," he said.

"I will," was her promise. "I am."

In the morning as he walked with her to the limo that would take her back to Yale, she tugged at his hand and kissed him on the lips. He told her, "I'll be with the twins most of the day."

She nodded, then said, "I'm so proud of us."

They were no longer going to be sad, or depressed. There was no reason to wallow in the darkness. They were still together and their family was beautiful. She made sure to tuck a few tabloids in her bag that contained the paparazzi shots of their picnic. They would be entertaining to go through while on the ride to Yale. Besides, Nate was a fan of the twins and she was pretty sure even Dan's unsophisticated brain could appreciate how beautiful her family was. She was going to leave the tabloids hanging around so Dan could stumble across of it and take the opportunity to praise the twins.

She glanced back at Chuck as the limo sped away. Chuck had his phone to his ear while he waved her off.

~o~o~o~

By the time that Blair walked into the lunch meeting she had set up with Nate, Nate had already seen the tabloids. He waved her over to his table and handed her the menu. "They're gorgeous," he said to her.

Blair placed the menu down on the table. Her eyes widened in excitement. "They are, aren't they?" She spied the one tabloid that Nate had brought with him. She took out the other ones she brought and handed them to her friend. While Nate went through the pictures she placed her order.

In the middle of the meal, Dan walked into the restaurant with a newspaper tucked under his arm. He spotted Blair and Nate and stopped by their table. "Have you seen it?"

Nate greeted the new arrival. He nodded at the stack of tabloids on the table. "Which one?"

Dan glanced at the tabloid and picked it up. "Cute," he commented at the picture where the twins were looking wide-eyed at their French-kissing parents. "You sure the ducks are allowed to see something that graphic?"

"There are many things much more graphic that they didn't get to see," Blair parried bitingly and with much amusement.

Nate hung his head with a flush and a grin. "I'm going to let that go because you're Blair Waldorf," Dan said. "And no, those shots, as brilliant a piece of journalism those are, aren't what I'm talking about." Dan recovered and tossed the newspaper on the table. "This is what I'm talking about. It's the hospital. Bought out just this morning. It's causing a ruckus because it was completely unforeseen and there weren't any preparations for it."

Nate picked up the paper in concern. He skimmed through the article. "What's the big deal? They were bought out. They should resume normal operations."

"They can't," Dan pointed out. "Turn to page 6. The director and most of the attending doctors were released. Looks like all hell broke lose out there. The entire hospital looks like the emergency ward after a train wreck." He shook his head. "Whoever did this didn't care about what happens after. Even if it's private, the mayor's stepping in because it's such a big hospital."

Blair's brows furrowed. She took her phone from her bag and saw several missed calls from Dorota. She held up a hand and called back. Blair paled at the sound of the hysterical screaming. She gripped her phone to her ear and demanded, "Dorota, is that Yale?"

"Miss Blair, I try call you. We're in hospital waiting for doctor for one hour. Miss Yale fell down stairs."

Blair shot up from her seat and grabbed her bag. "Is she okay?" she bit out. "Where's Chuck?" At least he was there in Manhattan, even if took her hours to reach home.

"We don't know. We can't contact Mr Chuck."

"What?" she snapped. "He said he's spending the day with the twins!"

"Mr Chuck left after you, Miss Blair."

"I'll be right there," Blair ground out. "For her sake, fire Yale's nanny. I swear I don't know what I'll do to her if she's there when I arrive." She hung up the phone. Nate grabbed her arm. She said, "My daughter's in the hospital. I need to get home."

"I'll get grandfather's chopper," he offered.

"Where the hell is Chuck Bass?" she cried out in frustration.

"Hey," Nate said gently. "I'm right here." He pulled her into his arms, then tossed his phone to Dan. "Call my grandfather for the chopper. It's right in the estate now and it can be here in fifteen minutes."

tbc


	53. Chapter 53

**Part 53**

Her baby's arm was fractured, and Blair kept herself from sobbing out loud at the sight of her poor princess slumped in Nate's arm after she had exhausted herself crying. If she started whimpering the way she had when she was out of her mind with worry the entire way back to Manhattan, Hampton was going to start bawling loud enough to wake Yale. Right now, with the pain she was sure was oscillating in Yale's nerves, dozing off was a lot kinder.

"She'll be fine," Nate said in reassurance.

Blair nodded curtly. Yale's arm was set in a canary yellow cast, with Disney characters littered all across the sling. Belle held up her heavy skirt with one hand while her other rested on the Beast's shoulder while they danced. Aurora was captured with her mouth open as she sang to the bird perched upon her finger. Snow White smiled dreamily at the thought of a prince as she drew water from the well. It had been a fascinating topic of conversation to keep Yale's attention away from the pain while the doctor finished the cast.

Dan had been completely right. The hospital had been in chaos. When she arrived, not even the name Bass mattered with the few residents and interns running around, attending to life and death instances. She would have bitched about the fact that they had let a toddler suffer if she were not so grateful that at least Yale was not in the same dire straits. And when no one was going to attend to Yale, it was Nate who called in a favor and the retired family doctor of the Vanderbilts made his way from his penthouse to the hospital, ordered an orderly to bring him supplies and effectively set the arm.

Blair sighed in relief, feeling her heart slow and calm when Yale tearfully pointed to the pictures on her sling and showed it off to her brother like a new toy that Hampton was unfortunately not getting. Hampton hopped up onto the seat next to Yale and closed his hand over his sister's uninjured one.

"Okay, Yale?" Her daughter nodded, but sniffled the remainder of her hysterics. "Don't be upset, Yale," Hampton advised. "Mommy's gonna be upset."

When finally, she knew they be alright, she turned to Nate and mouthed her thanks.

Nate handed Dorota his cell and instructed, "Copy off Dr Steinberg's home phone number, so that you can call him if there's ever an emergency next time and Blair's away at school."

Dorota said, "When Miss Blair's away, first call is Mr Chuck." But still, the maid surreptitiously copied the number into her own cellphone.

"I'm not going back to college," Blair told him. "Not after this."

"It's an accident, Blair."

"The entire deal was that I go off for my two days a week because Chuck told me he can stay with the kids, work from home for those two days." She shook her head. "I can't trust that he's keeping his end of the bargain."

She stepped forward and rubbed a hand on Yale's back. Nate advised, "Talk it through with Chuck."

"When I find him I will," she promised. "Can you help load the kids up into the car? I want to take them home."

"I can stay," he offered. When Blair was about to refuse, he injected, "They're my godchildren. I'll stay with them until you sort things through."

After thanking the Vanderbilt's family doctor, and watching Nate slip an undisclosed check to the old man, she returned to the home she shared with Chuck. She tucked Hampton into the race car bed that he insisted on the week before. Blair waited for Nate to put Yale down into her princess bed. When Nate took the blankets to tuck her in, she met him halfway and gently took the blanket from his hands so she could tuck her daughter in herself.

"Blair—"

"Tell me he had a good reason for not being here," she requested.

Nate cleared his throat. "Maybe we should talk about us."

Blair shook her head. "You've been so amazing today. Do you really want to ruin that?"

Nate paused, then with a soft chuckle agreed. At the sound of a message alert, he took his phone from his pocket. He scrolled down the screen, then looked back up at Blair. "It's my contact at the mayor's office. They just confirmed for me that it was Bass Industries that took over the hospital. He was in part of the closed door meeting that started this morning. He says Chuck's been there the entire time."

For a small second she was relieved to know at least that he was safe.

"He hasn't listened to any reason that the board's given him. Blair, Chuck seems to be on a rampage. He's insisted on scheduling interviews for all the top positions in the hospital, including the attending jobs. It would take weeks—months—before that hospital is up and running again."

Chuck was about to bleed the hospital dry, throw away millions and not care. And she thought he had let it go. She should have known. In the back of her mind she had that niggling suspicion that even though he insisted she move on, he still had not. This was proof positive.

"I'm going in," she declared.

Because Chuck Bass was not going to run his reputation, his dignity, his integrity, in a battle they were bound to lose anyway.

"I need your help," she told Nate.

~o~o~o~

Gina painted a devastating picture, and it was exactly the Chuck Bass she saw when she arrived at Chuck's office late into the night. The office was dark, lit only by the Manhattan skyline outside the window. The door swung open silently, and she walked across the posh carpet so she could stand in the center of the room.

The bottle of scotch glowed dully on the table. Chuck held up a glass to his lips, then swallowed.

He saw her. She could tell. His tired, hooded eyes focused on her presence like so much of an oasis in a desert.

"Exhausting day?" she began.

"It's a day just like any other," was his quiet answer.

Her lips curved into a thin smile. Chuck reached for the bottle and filled his glass. She walked forward and stopped before him. When he reached for the glass, she beat him to it. She brought it up to her lips and downed the liquid. In the dark shadows of the room she noted the tick in his jaw.

"You're not supposed to be drinking," he said, referring to the illness that had almost taken her away through the pregnancy.

"Neither are you," she returned firmly when she placed the glass back down. "If you insist on destroying yourself I'll meet you every step of the way." Blair grasped the neck of the bottle and poured a hefty portion into the glass. When she brought the glass up again, he caught her wrist and stopped her. "You think you're the only one who can spiral?"

Chuck took the glass from her and put it down, then capped the bottle. "You don't understand. You don't know what I had to do today."

"Of course I do," she answered. Blair tasted the disgusting, delicious taste of scotch in her throat. "Dan started it. Nate confirmed it. Gina—Gina told me all about it. You've been drinking for days when I'm not here. When you're with me, you act like this cool, unflappable man."

"You didn't need to know—"

"The hell I didn't!" she exclaimed.

"You have classes, and a new place to get used to. You're still recovering—"

"Stop!" she cried. "Do you realize that you're blaming me for letting yourself get out of control?"

He scowled. "I'm not blaming you. I blame them—that incompetent hospital staff. They deserve whatever's coming."

She shook her head. "You lied to me today."

"Someone had to make them pay."

"Yale fell down the stairs today," she stated. She heard the audible gasp. He shot up from his chair. "There wasn't anyone to attend to her in all that chaos—not even any of the incompetent staff you managed to get laid off." He pushed the intercom button and uttered his request for the limo. Blair took some pity on him and said, "Thankfully it was just broken bone, and she'll be fine." When he sighed in relief, she continued, "Nate took care of it."

He took a tremulous breath. "She's fine?"

"Her arm is in a cast. Children are resilient. By tomorrow she would have forgotten the nightmare she was in today."

"You left her?"

"Dorota 's there. Nate's there," she said. "I came to get you."

He sank into his seat. Now that he knew his daughter was alright… "I don't know if I could go now."

She blinked back tears.

"I wasn't there. Great job not being anything like Bart Bass. I'm turning out exactly like him." He turned pained eyes to her. "The twins don't need a dad like that. They need a father who'll be there for them."

"Someone who's not consumed with getting revenge?" Blair asked. Chuck nodded. "Who will be there for them when they sick. Someone who loves them." Blair chuckled bitterly. "You're talking about Nate."

Chuck frowned. He glared at Blair. "Is that what you think?"

"That's what you're telling me," she said sharply, her voice cold. "You're sitting here in the dark, mulling over a decision you made yourself, a decision, mind you, that didn't involve me. Because you think I have too much to think about. You decided not to include me."

"Doesn't it occur to you that it's because I love you?"

She forged on like there wasn't an outburst from him. "Chuck, I told you that your daughter is hurt, and you're too insecure about your issues with your father that you would rather drink yourself to oblivion than stay with her."

"This is who I am—scars and all. I thought you understood that."

"I married the entire package, but we never promised we weren't going to heal the wounds." She leaned down and cupped his cheek. "You healed me. I was throwing up, and I always thought you would abandon me the moment the board accepted you."

"Ridiculous," he muttered.

"And you never let go until I was sure you were going to stay with me."

"Maybe," he rasped, "you're better than I am. Maybe you're capable of healing and I'm not."

"You really think so?" she whispered. His face was so broken, and stubborn. "I love you," she tried. Blair took a deep breath, then kissed his temple. Scotch and Chuck, so familiar and hurtful.

"I love you too," he said. "But I can't let this go. They made a mistake, and that mistake caused us a baby."

"Move on," she said. "You told me to. So should you."

He shook his head. Blair's hands grasped his. His wedding band was cool against the palm of her hand. "I love you," she repeated.

"It's not always enough," he confessed.

He had pushed her enough, been stubborn enough. It was her only choice. "Then give me a divorce," she stated.

His gaze slammed to hers, his eyes shone with disbelief. "What did you say?"

"I want a divorce, Chuck. I want custody of the twins."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't move past this, and I don't want to have to watch you destroy yourself. I would stay beside you but you don't want to involve me in your decisions."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"That's what you're doing when you keep me in the dark."

"You're taking the kids away."

"You're convinced you're becoming Bart, and I'm not going to let my babies be raised by a Bart Bass knock off." She shrugged. "Your company's safe. We made sure of that. I won't take half your money. I need an allowance for the twins—child support. That's it."

His eyes glittered in veiled angry. "Are you serious, Mrs Bass?" he demanded.

"Are you going to give me a divorce?" she pressed.

"Over my dead, alcohol-sodden body," he gritted out.

She nodded, satisfied. "Then shape up. Let the anger go. Get the hospital back on track, and come back to us like you were before. I need my Chuck back. I can only be the stronger one for a short time. You're the strong one. You're the dad."

And as utterly anti-feminist as that was, she knew it was the bravest she had ever been. Sometimes she still had nightmares that he would be gone from her, and she had half-expected him to take her dare and her life would implode.

Once he realized it was a fucking stupid challenge, a mind game, he released his breath. "Dammit, Blair." He let out a humorless laugh. "My bones melted. I wanted to vomit." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I thought that was it."

She tightened her hands over his, and his other hand covered hers until she was sure her diamond bit into his skin. "Let's go home," she asked. "I know two kids who are eager to see you."

He pulled himself up to his feet, and when he wavered, Blair walked over to his side. He placed an arm around her shoulders, for balance, but she thought of it as warmth. Together they walked out of the dark office and into the brightly lit corridor. She nodded towards Gina, who efficiently informed them that the limo was waiting outside the building.

"Thank you, Gina," Blair said to the old secretary.

"You're welcome. It's wonderful to see you again, Mrs Bass."

Blair took out her key card as they stood outside their penthouse. Chuck wrapped his arms around her waist. He dipped his head to kiss her neck. The door swung open and revealed Nate sleeping on the couch with the television on. Chuck eyed his best friend and the small box on the coffeetable. He picked it up and unsnapped the lid, then grunted at the sight of a diamond ring.

"Is this part of the divorce dare? Were you two going to fake an engagement too?"

That part they had not discussed, but Blair lauded Nate for going the extra mile. Chuck took the diamond ring from the box, then tried to read the inscription. She was grateful that the scotch was still swirling in his head, because he handed the ring over to her to read.

Always Have, Always Will.

She sighed. That was a conversation she needed to have with Nate. Now that it seemed like Chuck was going to be just fine, she needed to address what she had insisted was not vital. Instead of telling Chuck what the inscription was, and causing hell to break lose in the aftermath of Nate's wonderful assistance through the entire day, she said, "Vanderbilt-Archibald. That's what's written."

"Romantic," Chuck replied.

"Dad!"

The two of them turned and saw the miniscule figure at the doorway, and saw Hampton standing in his pajamas. He ran towards Chuck and hugged his leg. Chuck picked him up and buried his nose in the boy's hair.

"You smell, daddy. Smell like a raccoon." Hampton giggled. "Stinky." The boy was so emphatic that one would believe he had actually ever seen an actual raccoon, or even recognized its odor.

"Daddy won't smell like this anymore ever again," he said. And Blair was certain that because it was a promise to his son, Chuck would do his best to keep it and away from scotch. "I'll take a shower."

"Don't take a shower at night, daddy. You get sick," Hampton reminded him.

"I'll use hot water and dress quickly after," Chuck shared. "Besides, mommy's here to keep me warm after." He winked at Blair, and she thought maybe they were healing faster than she feared.

"Okay," Hampton gave his permission.

"Can you take daddy to see Yale? I want to see if she's better."

Hampton pointed to the direction of the twins' bedroom. Chuck glanced back at Blair, who was placing the ring back inside the box.

"Thank him for me," Chuck threw back as he made his way to the bedroom.

Blair nodded. She walked over to the couch and shook Nate's shoulder. Nate opened his eyes. His lips curved when he saw her. Blair handed the box to him. "He's with the kids," she said.

"Good. Good," he answered. He took the box from her. "Did it work?"

"Like magic," she answered in the affirmative. Blair nodded at the box. "I didn't know you had props."

Nate sat up on the couch. "It was lying around since the twins had measles."

"You know you're never going to use it, don't you?"

"So you say," he said lightly. "But it would have been pretty useful if the first dare didn't work."

"Nate, do we need to really figure this out like some complicated problem. It's simple."

"You're in love with Chuck."

"That's not news," she stressed. "Chuck says thank you. For helping out."

"I'm always going to be here for you. Next time he's not there, you and Dorota know you can count on me."

"There's not going to be a next time," Chuck said from the doorway of the twins' bedroom. He turned to Blair. "Yale's still fast asleep and I just got Hampton to go back to bed. He was up because he needed to pee. Are we potty-training him?" She nodded. "Good. I needed to know that." Then, "Nathaniel."

"Chuck."

"I need a favor. The chief of staff at the hospital has a pretty daughter that has a crush on you. I think it would help out matters when I hire him back if you could join dinner."

Blair's smile widened. He was going to put things right in the hospital.

"You're pimping me out."

Chuck snorted. He walked over to Blair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm pimping you away from my wife," he corrected. "If I have to finance your dates to half the Manhattan population, I would see you settled with kids of your own. That way, your infatuation with my family can transition over to your own." He smirked. "Although I know that's bound to be hard because my kids are so much more beautiful than any one of yours will be."

Nate's eyebrows shot up. He looked at Blair in disbelief. "Is he trash talking my future children?"

Blair stood, then waved them away. They were going to be fine. "I'm not part of this conversation." She arched up to kiss her husband's cheek. "I'll see you in bed. Goodnight." She threw over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Nate."

As she entered the bedroom, she heard, "Blair's looks, my sex appeal, her wit, my business acumen—"

"My looks, my sex appeal," Nate muttered.

"My buildings, my billions." Chuck paused. "Hampton with my self-confidence. And I don't want to think about this, but when Yale's a teenager—Blair's ass."

"Fine!" Nate huffed. "Your twins win."

tbc


End file.
